Bring Marie
by Marla Fair
Summary: A prequel to 'Between Heaven and Earth.' Have you ever wondered what happened when Little Joe climbed Eagle's Nest as a five year old boy that could have been so traumatic it resulted, not just in a fear of falling, but in total amnesia that lasted for nearly 20 years? This is my take on what happened when Ben Cartwright was told to 'Bring Marie'.
1. Prologue

Upon watching the excellent season six episode, 'Between Heaven and Earth', I was struck by the fact that, while Little Joe's childhood excursion up Eagle's nest might explain his fear of heights, it does little to account for the fact that he blanked the incident completely from his mind, suffering total amnesia for eighteen years. In reality, this amnesia would have continued had Ben not told him what happened. To me, it seems inconceivable that this sort of psychological damage came about simply because he climbed too high and had to be rescued.

This is my take on what _really_ happened...

oooooooooo

Bring Marie

oooooooooo

Prologue

Ben Cartwright's near black eyes shot open. He lay for a moment, his heart pounding, considering the implications of the shriek of sheer terror that had shattered the quiet of a Ponderosa night. When no clear cry for help followed, he allowed himself the luxury of believing it to be his youngest son, not threatened or in danger, but caught once again in the depths of a night terror from which he could not escape.

As he opened his door, Ben noted Adam and Hoss doing the same. The smile was weak that he favored them with. While he appreciated their concern, there was no need for all three of them to lose a night's sleep.

"I'll get it this time, boys. You go back to bed."

Adam ran a hand through his tousled black waves, shoving them back from his forehead. He listened to the now soft sounds of his youngest brother's terror for a moment before saying, "I thought...well, after what happened at Eagle's Nest, you'd think the nightmares would have stopped."

You'd think.

Ben walked the rest of the way down the hall to the sound of retreating footsteps and two doors closing. Outside of Joseph's room, he paused. He could hear the boy muttering and thrashing about in the bed, fighting whatever unseen phantom haunted his dreams. The older man paused with his hand on the door latch. He knew that – no matter how softly he spoke or how gentle his touch – waking his son would be, as Hoss liked to put it, akin to rousing a grizzly from a nice winter nap. Without knocking he opened the door and walked in. As careful as he was to guard his sons' privacy now that they were men, it wasn't a violation. From the time this particular son had been very little, it had been a necessity. Ben paused at the end of the bed to watch. Joseph's jaw was tight; his full lips drawn into a thin line. His fingers formed fists that punched at the empty air. There was a sheen of sweat on his exposed skin and he was breathing hard. His son was at war with an enemy only he could see, but could never describe.

Ben ran a hand over his stubbled cheek as he pulled a chair up and sat down. While Joseph couldn't describe that enemy, he could.

And it was time he _did._

It had been a hard week. Ben snorted – make that 'month'. For the last several weeks Joseph had been a man possessed. While night terrors had always been a constant in the boy's life, during the last month they had become a dark companion that shadowed his waking moments as well. He had turned on everyone he loved – him, his brothers; even his dearest friend, Mitch Devlin – putting himself and others in danger, and all because of a childhood fear. The phobia had inexplicably resurfaced when he had climbed up a fist of red rock known as Eagle's Nest in order to get a better look at a mountain cat that had been terrorizing their herds; an irrational fear so deeply ingrained in his young son's subconscious that the boy didn't even know it was there.

Joe had a fear of heights. It began when he was a little over five years old. His son had climbed to the top of Eagle's Nest and become so frightened he couldn't climb back down.

Or, at least, that's what he'd told him.

It wasn't the truth. The truth was too...

Painful.

Steeling himself as if for battle, Ben reached out and caught one of Joe's flailing arms. He held his son's wrist in an iron grip as he managed to catch the other hand – the one bunched into a fist and aimed instinctively for his head – just before it made contact.

"Joseph!" he said, his tone stern. He'd learned over the years that speaking gently to the boy did nothing to break into his dreams. "Joseph, it's Pa. You're in your bedroom and you're safe. You need to wake up."

Still that curly head tossed about on the pillow. _Still_ Joe's agitated body thrashed from side to side. The young man's eyes remained closed, but he saw _something_ – something that terrified him.

"No, don't..." his son wailed. "No, _please_... Please, don't...let me fall..."

Ben drew a sharp breath as Joe's words cut through him like a knife, and sights and sounds long buried took the stage and played out before his weary eyes. They had haunted him for over eighteen years, these things his son knew nothing of that disturbed his sleep.

They disturbed _his_ sleep at times as well.

It had been his hope that when Joseph found the courage to climb toward the pinnacle of Eagle's Nest and retrieve his rifle, that it would bring him release – that his son would finally be free of what had happened all those long years ago. It hadn't, of course. Joseph's fear of heights wasn't the heart of the problem. At its heart was just _how_ his son had come to be on that pile of rock that punched the sky in the first place. He'd told Joseph that it had to do with one willful little boy who had run off and gotten lost and needed to be rescued.

It was a lie.

Again, he tried, speaking in a calm, sure tone. "Joseph, it's Pa. You're having a nightmare. Joseph! You need to wake up!"

This time the boy's body went rigid and then his green eyes snapped open. For a moment they were without focus, but then...slowly...reality bled into the nightmare landscape of his terror. Little Joe drew in a deep breath, shuddered, and then smiled sheepishly at him through a curtain of sweat-soaked curls.

"Again?" he asked, his voice as ragged as if he had just finished running a race.

"Again." Ben reached out and pushed those curls aside, freeing the boy's eyes. "Eagle's Nest?"

Joe nodded. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and then sat up straighter, propping his still trembling form against the pillows. "You know, Pa, I thought for sure once you told me about me climbin' up there as a kid and bein' scared witless, this would stop. But it hasn't. It's worse."

The older man hesitated. "You said something a moment ago, Joseph. 'Please, don't let me fall.' Do you know _why_ you said that?"

His son's smile was chagrined. "That's what I said, 'Don't let me fall?' Sheesh, what'd I think, some eagle got hold of me and was gonna drop me?"

Ben's sucked in air, remembering that horrible night.

The night he almost lost his son.

"Pa?"

It was time.

"Joseph," he said softly, "do you know _why_ that ridge is called Eagle's Nest?"

The dusky light fell through the partially opened window, illuminating his son. Joseph Francis was such a handsome young man. Ben could see himself in him, but even more he could see Marie. Sometimes it was like she was there, staring at him out of those familiar green eyes – issuing a challenge, calling him to care for their son; to keep him safe and whole.

He had come very close to failing her that night, some eighteen years before.

Marie's boy shrugged. "Because eagles like it?"

Ben leaned back in the chair. Oh yes, 'eagles' liked it. Especially _one_ Eagle – an ordinary, strange, and _extra_ ordinary man by the name of Gabriel Augustine Eagle who chose that high promontory as the place to make his stand.

And wait for Marie.


	2. Chapter 1

_For those who do not remember the episode, a synopsis of 'Between Heaven and Earth'._

 _000000000000000000000000000000000_

 _Twenty-three year old Joe Cartwright's sleep has been disturbed by nightmares. In them, he is on the top of a ridge, clinging on for dear life. He loses his grip and falls and wakes – and can't remember what it is he's dreamed. One day he is out hunting a mountain cat with his friend, Mitch Devlin, and decides to climb up the ridge known as Eagle's Nest to get a better look-out on the land, hoping to spot the cat. Instead, he is overcome by an irrational fear of falling off the cliff edge. Terrified, he backs down, leaving his favorite rifle at the top. Over the next few days he tries to retrieve the rifle, but is unable to do so due to his fear. Joe begins to doubt his manhood because of this and reacts out of anger and frustration with himself, becoming hostile to his friends and reckless to the point where he endangers his and Hoss' lives. Finally, his father follows him and finds Joe on the rocks, frozen in place, just below the rifle. It is at that point where Ben explains that, when Joe was five years old, he climbed up Eagles Nest and couldn't come back down on his own. This does nothing to allay Joe's anger and fear. He has no memory of the incident. Finally, Ben has to trick him into going for the rifle by pretending to fall. Joe scrambles up without thinking in order to take hold of the gun, to use it to reach down to Ben where he is precariously perched. At the end of the episode, it seems Joe has come to terms with his fear, but still has no memory of his own of the incident._

00000000000000000000000000000000000

ONE

It was a beautiful day and all was right with the world.

Or, it would have been if he hadn't been left in charge of a certain diminutive and determined five-year-old force of nature that went by the name of Joseph Francis Cartwright.

Adam Cartwright, the boy's seventeen-year-old brother, ran a hand over his face and then glanced at the barn pole where his little brother wiggled and giggled, trying to break free of the rope he had used to tie him to it. Adam's hand moved to the bandana tied around his head that he had anchored a hawk feather in. At the moment, Little Joe was in little boy heaven, but playing cowboys and Indians was only going to buy him _so_ much time. Sooner or later it was going to dawn on Joe that he'd been had. He wasn't a stupid kid. He was just, well...

A kid.

Adam glanced at his brother again. Pa, was gonna kill him.

He'd gagged him too.

"Mmrrumph...mrrph!" Joe mumbled into the cloth, telling him – no doubt, in his five-year-old mind – to give up and come along peaceably. Well, he would, in about five minutes. The stable was clean, the tack attended to, and the horses bedded down for the night. He just needed to tidy a couple of things up and everything would be as it should, which was an accomplishment of Biblical proportions considering that he had had this little _squirt_ tailing after him for the last few hours. Pa'd come home just after supper in one of his dark humors, handed Buck over with a scowl, and gone immediately inside; the older man's footsteps taking him – with little doubt – toward the liquor cabinet where he would both drown his sorrows and numb his loneliness. Adam glanced at Little Joe again. It really wasn't fair. It would have been better if the kid had never known his mother like him, or lost her so young that her death would have had little impact on his life like Hoss. Little Joe had a great _big_ hole in his heart and the one person who could fill it – their father – was just about as absent as if he was present in his _own_ grave.

Adam's lips curled slightly with a sad sort of smile as he shook his head. Becoming a parent at seventeen was _not_ something he would have ever considered – though a certain young lady he was seeing at the moment could have made it tempting. He looked at Little Joe again, determinedly fighting against ropes he could not _hope_ to break. With Maddie Macintosh's lively personality and fiery temper, he might _just_ end up with a little scamp like Joe.

His brother snorted and made a disgusted noise as he wriggled. Joe wasn't angry yet, but those big green eyes of his were starting to ignite.

Adam walked and knelt down in front of him. Placing his hand on his heart, he waited a moment and then held it out, palm down. "Chief Adam hears the white man's plea," he said solemnly. "He must seek wisdom from the Great Spirit before he can free his captive."

His little brother blinked, caught smack-dab between his growing discomfort and the magic of pretend.

In reality, he hated to leave Joe tied up, but he needed to check out what was going on in the house before he took the kid inside. Everything depended on just how far down the memories – and the alcohol intended to dull them – had taken their father. Usually, Pa just slept it off in the big red chair by the fire, but every once in a while he would find the older man pacing the floor like a caged cat, ready to spring on whoever stepped through the door. And even though he had done all his chores and taken care of giving the men their orders _and_ watched over that little bundle of energy all day since Hoss was down sick in bed and Hop Sing was busy taking care of _him_ , it didn't mean much. Pa could still explode without warning.

Little Joe didn't need to see that.

With a smile at his brother who was now scowling and doing a fair impression of their father at his worse temper-wise, Adam headed for the ranch house. As he neared the front door, he circumnavigated the porch and went around to the side; his destination, the dining room window. He'd learned it was wise to peer in to see what their father was doing before entering. Tonight, he was in luck. Pa was on his feet in front of the fire, but he wasn't pacing. He was reading a piece of paper that he held in his hand.

Everything looked safe enough.

When he returned to the barn, Adam couldn't help but grin. From the daggers his little brother was shooting at him, Little Joe had finally figured it out. Well, _that_ was the last time for cowboys and Indians. He'd have to come up with a new way to keep the kid occupied when he needed to get work done.

Maybe next time he'd suggest he tie him to the mainmast in the midst of a gale.

As he bent down and removed the kid's gag, Little Joe spit out what he considered his worst threat.

"I'm gonna tell Pa!"

Adam hid his smile. "And just _what_ are you going to tell Pa?" he asked.

His brother's lower lip trembled. "That you were mean and tied me up!"

The older boy shrugged. "You asked me to."

Little Joe had been ready to spit fire. That gave him pause. He thought a minute and then said – a little less convincingly – "Well, then, I'll tell that you put that cloth in my mouth!"

' _Through it,_ _not in it'_ , the black-haired youth silently corrected, but said, "As any self-respecting Indian would do so that the cowboy could not yell for help. Now I couldn't have you shouting and alerting your pals, could I?"

The kid was thinking it through. Sharp mind there. Still, Little Joe was only five years old. When he couldn't come up with anything better, he resorted to his initial threat.

"I'm still gonna tell Pa," he muttered.

When he'd finished undoing Joe's play bonds, Adam caught him under the arms and helped him to his feet. As Joe's fingers found his, Adam looked down and sucked in a sharp breath. Sometimes, the kid's resemblance to Marie was startling – _and_ a knife stab to the heart.

Marie.

She'd been _his_ mother as well. The only one _he_ had ever known.

"So, let me get this straight," he said. "You are going to tell Pa that you asked me to play cowboys and Indians and I did, and that _you_ wanted the Indians to capture you and tie you up _and_ gag you, and I did, and that I was mean to you. Is that right?"

The wheels were turning behind those wide, expressive eyes. Little Joe knew he had been had – he just wasn't old enough to know exactly _how_.

His baby brother continued to glare at him for a moment and then asked, "Do you think Hop Sing has any chocolate cookies left?"

Ah, had it only been that simple to avert all wars.

Adam laughed as he reached down and lifted Joe from the floor of the barn. As he expected, the little boy instantly began to squirm.

"Let me down! I can walk on my own!"

' _No, you can't, Little Joe'_ , he thought. _You only know how to run._

With solemn dignity, Adam said, "Chief Adam must make recompense. He must carry the cowboy on his shoulders to the land of plenty and make sure his tummy is full before he goes to bed."

As Joe bounced on his shoulders, trying to get comfortable, he echoed, "Recom...what?"

"Recompense. Repay." He snorted. "Indian must carry cowboy into kitchen and make sure he gets _three_ cookies instead of two for being so good."

Boy, did those green eyes light at that!

As he settled Joe on his shoulders, the little boy took the bandana band with its disreputable feather off his head and placed it on his own.

"Next time _I_ get to be the Indian," Joe said as they started to move.

Next time, Adam thought, the cowboys will win.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Ben Cartwright stirred at the sound of approaching footsteps. As he placed the paper he held on the table beside his chair, his eyes lingered on the brandy bottle and the near empty glass beside it. He could only hope it was enough to steel him for what he was about to see.

The door opened and Adam entered with Little Joe on his shoulders, careful to duck so as not to let the little boy's head hit the door frame. Adam was a long, lanky drink of water, nearly six feet tall, while his little brother was small for his age and as cherubic as any child God ever fashioned. Little Joe was barely over five and still had his baby fat.

Little Joe was still a baby.

A baby without a mother.

Ben ran a trembling hand over his stubbled chin. It happened _every_ time. He couldn't look at his youngest son without his thoughts turning _instantly_ to the boy's mother; to the woman he had loved so deeply and lost too soon.

"Too soon," he breathed aloud.

His eldest son watched him for a moment, his look appraising, and then reached up and took hold of Joseph's hands and swung the small boy to the floor. At his brother's expectant look, Adam nodded.

"Go find Hop Sing. Tell him I told you that you were so good you could have _three_ cookies." Adam paused and a smile lit his tired face. "And tell him that I will be there in a minute to make sure he believes you."

Little Joe nodded, then he turned his way. Ben saw something pass through his youngest's expressive eyes – a longing, all too quickly followed by something akin to fear.

"Go ahead, son," he said. "If Adam says you deserve three cookies, you must have been very good boy indeed."

Joe remained still for a moment, considering, and then grinned from ear to ear and skipped away.

Skipped.

How could the boy skip when his mother was dead?

"Pa? Are you all right?"

Ben started guiltily, as if caught with his hand in Hop Sing's cookie jar.

He looked again at Adam – really looked this time. There were great dark circles cradling the boy's hazel eyes and he was far too thin. They were by no means beggars, but lately – since Marie's death – he'd been so distracted that things hadn't gotten done. Contracts had been neglected and, at times, gone unfulfilled. They were hurting for cash. Lately, he'd seen Adam forgo seconds – and sometimes firsts – at the table so his little brothers could eat their fill. The boy was pulling far more than his fair share with Hoss sick and him...

Well, he didn't know _what_ he was.

Lost?

"I'm fine, son," he said at last. "How are you?"

"Fine as frog hair, Pa," Adam replied, using one of his middle brother's favorite expressions.

Ben hesitated, but it needed to be said. "You look tired, son."

Adam studied him a moment. Then he said softly, "So do you, Pa." After a moment of awkward silence, the boy added, "How is Hoss doing?"

"He's better thanks to Hop Sing's constant care." For the moment Inger's boy was quarantined to his bedroom. Doctor Paul Martin – still a relatively new physician in Eagle Station – thought it was just a severe cold, but there was always the threat that it might turn out to be measles or something worse. Ben's eyes strayed to the kitchen area. "He's missing Little Joe."

"Those two are thicker than thieves," Adam said with a smile. "It's been hard on Joe too. He doesn't understand."

No, the boy didn't understand. He was only five. How _could_ he understand that something could come along that would take his middle brother away from them just as quickly and unexpectedly as that _damn_ horse had claimed his mother?

Ben went the side table and picked up his brandy glass and looked at the amber liquid in it, contemplating finishing it off. "So long as there are no complications," he added, "Doctor Martin thinks Hoss should be up and around in a day or so."

"That's good to hear." There was another awkward silence. At the end of it, Adam sighed. "Well, I better go see what mischief that little scamp is up to. Hop Sing –"

At that moment the owner of that name appeared as if out of a puff of smoke, standing by the dining table with Little Joe in hand. His youngest's face was grimy. His hands had been wiped clean – on Hop Sing's apron, he imagined. In one he gripped a large dark brown cookie.

"Little boy say he _velly_ good today. Get _three_ cookies."

The Chinese man said it as if _someone_ was out of their mind.

"That's right, Hop Sing," Adam agreed as he loped over. Ruffling Joe's curls with his fingers, the boy added, "Little brother here was real good for me. He let me clean up the barn, finish the tack room, _and_ take care of the horses."

Silently, Ben wondered what price his eldest had paid to accomplish _that_ miracle.

"Mister _Ben_ say it all right little boy have _three_ cookies?"

Three was a bit of an extravagance, especially considering the price of chocolate and their current circumstances, but he knew Adam had his reasons.

"Yes, it's fine."

"See I told you!" Joe thrust out his lower lip in a pout and then instantly thought better of it. The little boy's gaze shot to him.

Did he see him tremble?

"Sorry, Pa," Little Joe said, hanging his head.

Ben pursed his lips. He was more tolerant with Marie's boy than he had been with his older sons. He knew that. _Permissive_ even. But there were lines, and disrespect was one he would not allow the child to cross.

"Apology accepted, son," he said a little stiffly.

The five-year-old looked up at him. "Does that mean number three son can have number three cookie now?" Joe asked, eying the one that remained.

Ben met Hop Sing's eyes and saw the smile in them. "Yes _, number three son_ may have cookie number three – and a glass of milk – and then it's off to bed."

Little Joe began to pull Hop Sing toward the kitchen, to get that glass of milk, only to stop and turn back before they got to the hall that led there.

"Can I see Hoss yet?" he asked, his tone forlorn.

"Maybe tomorrow," Ben replied. The threat of contagion seemed to be past.

Still...

Little Joe considered his reply carefully before saying, as solemnly as only a very small child could, "Then I'll eat this cookie and drink that milk fast so's I can get to sleep and wake up and it'll be morning and I can see Hoss."

While that was not exactly what he'd said, getting Joseph to bed without protest was worth the argument the morning would bring.

Marie would have told him he was an old fool for arguing with a five-year-old.

He was so lost without her.

As Little Joe and Hop Sing disappeared around the corner, Adam shifted nervously on his feet. "Er, Pa?"

"Yes, son?" he asked, turning back.

"I know it's not a good time, but would it be okay if I went into the settlement for the dance tomorrow night?"

Not a good time. When was it _ever_ a good time anymore?

Ben considered his teenage son. It didn't seem all that long ago that Adam had been Joseph's age. He had wanted so much for his first child – happiness, stability, a life of ease and plenty. What he'd given him instead was a life of deprivation and a burden of responsibility that would have bent the shoulders of a man of thirty.

Adam deserved a night off.

"Go with my blessing son." As the black-haired youth's eyes lit with surprise and thanks, Ben added, "and be sure to tell Miss McIntosh 'hello' for me."

The boy blushed. Adam ducked his head in that way Elizabeth had, and then resurfaced with a smile. "I will." With that, the teenager turned his feet toward the kitchen. "I'll see if Little Joe is done. Would you like me to take him to bed?"

"I'll do it. Why don't you –"

Ben halted at the knock on the door. It was late.

Whatever it was, it couldn't be good.

Adam shot him a look, asking if he should get it, but he shook his head. "See Joseph to bed and tell him I will be up later, and then come back down. Oh, and please check in on Hoss for me before you do."

His eldest shot a curious look at the door and then his eyes returned to him. There had been a second rap. More insistent this time.

"Sure thing, Pa," he said and then was gone.


	3. Chapter 2

TWO

Ben opened the door only to find William Olin standing on the porch, looking west toward the setting sun. William was a tough but fair man who had taken on the job of attempting to keep the law in Eagle Station. The settlement was fortunate to have him as well as those he called his deputies, Roy Coffee and Jedidiah Connors.

"William, what brings you all the way out here so late?" he said in greeting.

"Evening, Ben," the lawman answered. "How are you, and how are those boys of yours?"

Everyone knew how _he_ was, so he ignored that part of the question. "Hoss is mending. Adam and Little Joe are doing well."

"Not sick, either of them?"

He shook his head. "No." Before Marie's death, he would have added, ' _Thank God'_ , but, try he might, he wasn't quite there yet.

"That's good to hear." William paused. "Did you get that wanted poster I sent out by way of Jed?"

Ben glanced at the table by his chair. "Yes, I did."

"Have you ever seen that man?"

The rancher hesitated. He had studied the features on the poster as the note accompanying it had asked, but the man as depicted in the crude sketch was so nondescript – so... _ordinary_ – it could have been anyone.

He shook his head.

William looked disappointed. "I was afraid of that."

"Do you have reason to believe this man will come this way?" Ben asked warily. There had been the sketch and a description as well, along with a few other details on the poster.

The few 'other' details had been unsettling, to say the least.

Olin shrugged. "He was seen in Carson City and was said to be heading for Reno. You're kind of in the middle of nowhere, Ben, and well, I wouldn't want anything to happen to you or one of your boys in case he tried something. You know, a robbery gone wrong." Olin gave him a warning look. "You and that oldest boy of yours are known to be a little fast on the trigger at times and that can spell trouble."

At that moment Adam came walking out of the kitchen with Little Joe anchored on his hip. The child's mouth was a pink landscape dotted with chocolate boulders.

His eldest smiled his shy smile. "Mister Olin," he said with a nod.

"Adam. Little Joe."

As William's eyes scanned his youngest's grimy face, Adam said, "It's a bath for this one and then bed."

"Don't need no...bath," Joe sighed as he nuzzled into his brother's shoulder.

"You can't smell _you_ , Little Joe," Adam laughed. "Yes, you do!" As his son moved past him, headed for the staircase, the older boy added, "I'll be back down in about a half hour, Pa. Mister Olin."

Ben watched his son mount the steps and turn the corner at the top before saying, "I suppose it's the reference to this man having been in New Orleans that made you think of me."

William nodded. "First and most important, Ben, out of all the men in this area you're the one who owns the most land. That makes you a target. But yes, there's that too."

The rancher scowled. "I can't be the only person in Eagle Station who has ties in the Crescent City."

 _Had_ ties.

"Maybe not. But you're the only one who does with anything worth stealing."

Ben shook his head. "You mentioned that before. Is that the latest rumor? That I am cash rich?"

William walked over to his office and eyed the safe behind the desk. "According to Albert Stuart you've got over five thousand reasons in there that says you are."

It was every scrap of money he had, and a portion of it was a loan from a friend. What _was_ his was there to pay the month's wages to their hands. There was a little to live on as well, but the biggest part was capital to invest in a string of horses he hoped to buy. Those horses would bring them new hope. Due to the war, the army was desperate for mounts. He knew they could make money breeding and then selling the magnificent animals to the soldiers if no one else.

It was his hope that he would soon have enough money that his sons could heap their plates full and fit the loose clothing on their frames.

"Albert told you that?" Ben asked, a little troubled that his banker had shared such personal – and pertinent – information without his consent.

William smiled. "Don't worry. No loose lips to sink a ship here. When I heard this fellow might be in our area, I checked in with Stu to find out what was in the bank and who, besides himself, he thought might be a target." Olin's eyes rounded the room, filled as it was with most of Marie's cherished possessions. His late wife had elegant taste and he'd indulged her. A beautiful ten piece silver set graced the dining room sideboard. Two sets of fine china filled the Chinoiserie cabinet in the hall. There were silver candlesticks and cloisonné pieces from the Orient and, at the heart of the great room, in front of the grand fireplace, a striped damask settee.

He should sell them. They were all useless now.

"You have to understand, Ben, you Cartwrights are different from the usual gold seekers, down and out cowpokes, and scallywags that populate Eagle Station. It gets you noticed." William crossed back over to the door. "Anyhow, forewarned is forearmed is what I always say."

Ben nodded. "Yes. Thank you. We'll take extra care."

The law man opened his mouth to say something more, but closed it just as quickly as if thinking better of it.

"You do that," he said, returning the nod.

After William left, Ben returned to his chair by the fire and picked up the wanted poster so he could look at it again. The list of aliases under the vague sketch was lengthy. It consisted of half a dozen names ranging from the possible to the ridiculous. None of them were familiar. The man was described as being of average height with a moderate build – as if that helped – with tanned skin, brown hair and eyes, and a penchant for wearing clothing of the same color. He was described as a loner, hard to get to know and easy to forget, and – to quote one pragmatic witness– crazy as a loon. He was wanted for a series of minor crimes including cheating at cards and swindling several people out of their money. There was a major crime too and it was the reason the law wanted to find and catch him.

The murder of a young woman.

Ben was still staring at the ambiguous representation of the criminal when he heard Adam's footsteps on the stair.

"Mister Olin's gone?" his son asked with some regret as he came to stand beside him.

Ben looked up. Adam's red shirt was soaked and his black locks were dangling in front of his eyes, dripping water.

"The bath was a success, I take it?" he asked with a smile.

"I'm sorry to report that the captain went down with the ship...several times," his son answered with a mock salute. "He resurfaced at the last only to surrender to a wave of white linen."

Ben looked at his boy – this boy who stood on the cusp of manhood.

"Thank you, son," he said quietly.

Adam tossed his head and pushed the locks out of his eyes. "I want to spend every minute I can with Little Joe. If I go to college in the autumn..."

If Adam went to college as planned, he didn't know what he would do – he only knew _somehow_ he would do it.

"Once you're there, the time will go faster than you think, son. You'll be home in no time."

Adam looked longingly up the stairs. "Somehow, when Joe's nine or ten, I doubt he'll let me hoist his sails and anchor him snugly in the harbor."

It always amused him when his landlubber sons employed nautical terms. Apparently, he'd talked a bit _too_ much about those long years on shipboard.

"You'll have to get to know one another again, but you will. You're brothers, Adam. There is no stronger bond than blood."

Adam took a seat on the hearth. "Gee, Hoss will be – what? – almost my age?" His son paused. "Pa, I don't know. Maybe I should just forget about it."

"No!" he snapped, perhaps a bit too harshly. Drawing a breath to calm his nerves, Ben went over to his oldest and sat by him on the stones, grateful for the warmth they exuded. It was November and the evenings were growing quite chilly. "No," he said again, softly this time. "It's your dream and...it was your mother's as well. You have to do what is right for you, not for me or Hoss _or_ Little Joe."

His son's hands hung between his knees. His eyes were fastened on them. "I guess I have a year to decide."

"Not quite," Ben reminded him. "Tuition will come due long before that." It was another part of why he needed to win the bid on those horses. He had part of the money for Adam's education set aside, but a four year course at a college back East was not inexpensive. Even with Adam living at his grandfather's home, the expenses appeared to be more than he could manage at the moment.

 _Faith_ , Ben reminded himself. _Have faith._ _There's a reason Marie is gone and Adam is going._

Though for the life of him he couldn't imagine what it was.

His son turned to look at him. "What did Mister Olin want, Pa?"

Ben hesitated to say. Still, he knew the boy was old enough to be told the truth.

"There is a criminal on the loose. He may be in our area," he said as he handed him the wanted poster.

"Not much to go on, is it?" Adam asked after he read it. Then he added, a bit incredulous, "Mister Olin really thinks there is something in Eagle Station that would bring a man like this here?"

" _Us_ among other things," he sighed. "People in Eagle Station seem to think we are more affluent than we really are. William's afraid someone might say something that would lead this man to attempt to rob us."

His eldest considered it. Adam knew of the money in the safe, of course.

"We'll be careful, Pa," he said, speaking for himself and his brothers.

Ben placed a hand on his son's shoulder. With this new information he regretted the fact that he was set to go to look at those horses tomorrow, but then, the threat was vague at best and he would be back within a few days. It was just bad timing that most of the men were set to leave on the autumn drive as well. "I'll keep a few of the newer hands here to patrol the perimeter until I get back." At Adam's concerned look, he added, "Don't let the threat weigh you down, son. Just be a little more watchful – especially where that impulsive little rapscallion you just safely harbored is concerned."

"Aye, aye, captain!" Adam said with a smile.

"Is Little Joe waiting on me to tuck him in?" the older man asked as he rose to his feet.

"No. He was asleep before I was out the door."

He hated to admit it, but that was a relief. "Good. I have some paperwork that needs to be done before I head out tomorrow to take a look at those horses." He gave his son a tight smile. "I'm sorry I can't take you with me, but –"

Adam's eyes met his. "You need me here, Pa. Yeah, I know."

The unspoken question hung in the air between them.

 _So what are you going to do when I'm gone?_

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

The next morning dawned just as bright and even more beautiful than the day before. The fall air was crisp but not too cold, and the sun was shining in a brilliant blue sky dotted by only a few puffy clouds. The only discouraging thing was that the breeze was coming in from the south, which often signaled an approaching storm, especially if it decided to shift to the northwest. Nevada weather in mid to late November was always a toss of the dice. It could be mild or absolutely chilling to the bone. Even worse, at times the shift from one to the other was so sudden it took everyone by surprise.

Ben glanced back at the house as he finished checking his cinch. The morning had gone well. Doctor Martin had come by early to check on Hoss and declared him fit. When he'd told Joseph that he could see his brother, his youngest had let out a shriek of joy that had the power to raise the dead. Bolting down the hall, the tiny boy ran into his big brother's room and leapt on the bed before any of them had time to recover their wits. Noting his concern, Paul Martin had declared that Little Joe was probably the best medicine he could prescribe. Then the physician had made his way to the bed and gone nose to nose with the five-year-old and made him solemnly pinky-swear that he would watch his big brother closely and make sure Hoss did nothing to tire himself out. Adam managed to mask a snicker behind his hand, though his hazel eyes danced over its edge at the doctor's wisdom. The only sour moment in the morning had come when he had to ask Adam to forgo the dance that night. He'd thought about it all the night before and come to the conclusion that, after William Olin's visit, he felt uneasy about leaving Hop Sing alone with Hoss and Little Joe with just a couple of greenhorns to watch over them. The experienced men had moved out with the cattle that morning, heading for the high pastures where their small herd would winter, leaving only a few fresh, untried ones behind to keep watch. Adam, of course, had agreed without hesitation. Still, he could see in the boy's eyes how disappointed he was. He 'd offered to carry his regrets to Maddie McIntosh on his way through the settlement, but that had only seemed to make matters worse.

In the end, he left well enough alone.

Now, it was late afternoon. He'd hoped to get an earlier start, but things were what they were and it was time for him to set out on his journey to Placerville. He intended to ride until dark tonight, make camp, and then complete the remainder of the one hundred mile trek the next day. The bidding on the horses would happen the morning after that, so he had plenty of time to make the trip at ease. What he needed to do there wouldn't take long and, if he was lucky, he would be home by late morning the day after. With Hoss just mended, he didn't want to be gone too long, and besides that there was simply too much to get done before the snow set in and they were cut off from what little civilization Eagle Station offered.

That thought brought another stinging one.

It would be his first winter without Marie at his side on those long, lonely nights.

"Pa?"

Ben turned at Adam's voice. His own was a bit shaky when he asked, "What is it, son?"

"I think you're going to need this."

The older man groaned when he saw the leather case containing all the paperwork he had spent hours completing the night before. If he had ridden off without it...

"Thank you, son, for keeping track of this old man."

Adam smiled. "You're not so old, Pa. Just... _older."_

Taking a step forward, he cupped his hand around the back of the boy's neck. Adam was not one to show open affection, but he accepted the gesture with a smile.

"I'm sorry again about the dance," Ben said.

"It's okay. Besides, you know what Bayly said, ' _Absence makes the heart grow fonder'_."

His son had left the door open. Through it Ben could see the settee and the heads of the two young boys – one reddish-blond and the other, chestnut brown – who sat pressed tightly together on it.

"They'll be fine, Pa," Adam said, reading his mind. "Hop Sing promises he has enough apron strings to tie them both to while I do my chores and see to the business of the ranch."

Ben laughed. It felt good to laugh. It felt good as well to know that Hoss was better and on his feet, and that Adam wouldn't have to try to keep an eye on Joseph all alone.

"Don't let your brother overdo."

"I won't be able to. Since Doc Martin charged Joe with keeping a close watch on him, I haven't been able to pry the two of them apart." Adam looked at the sky and then said, "You better get on your way, Pa. You've only got a few hours of daylight left."

"Of course."

Ben turned and raised his foot to place it in the stirrup. He froze as his gaze hit the ground. In the busyness of life, he'd almost forgotten – _almost_. He was standing in the exact spot where Marie's horse had stumbled and thrown her; at the spot where he had knelt in the dirt to cradle his beloved wife' broken body and held her as her spirit returned to its Maker. As he hesitated, there was a sudden shift in the sky. Light and cloud shadow played over the yard, casting both him and Adam into darkness.

Bringing with it a sudden presentiment of impending danger that nearly unmanned him.

"Pa? What's wrong?"

Adam was concerned. He had reason to be. Ben could see his own hands shaking where they gripped the saddle and reins. The rancher closed his eyes and gave himself a stern talking to. There was nothing to fear. _Nothing_ was going to happen while he was gone. He was simply unnerved by the sudden realization that he was standing where his wife had died.

With a shake of his head, he finished mounting. From his position atop his buckskin's back, Ben looked at his home and whispered a silent prayer that, when he returned, he would find all just as it was now.

He couldn't survive another tragedy.

"Everything's fine, son," he said at last. "See you in a few days."

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Adam ran a hand over his eyes and then used it to slick back his black hair before reaching for the latch on the door to Little Joe's bedroom.

This was the second time in one night.

It _had_ to be a record.

As he advanced into the room, Adam considered the last few days. The one after his father left had gone well. The day after that, which had been Sunday, Hoss had felt well enough to go to church and so the three of them – him, Hoss, and Little Joe – had put on their Sunday best, piled into the buggy, and traveled to the settlement. They'd even managed to keep Little Joe clean until they walked into the sanctuary, though there had been a close call with a mud puddle when they debarked from the buggy. Thanks to one of the new hands Pa had hired and left behind, who happened to be in town, Joe had made it into the service spit and polish clean.

From there things just went up.

Though he'd missed the harvest dance on Friday night, after the service he'd managed to sweet talk Maddie McIntosh into forgiving him and even gotten a kiss on the cheek for volunteering to stay in town and help her clean up the hall where it had been held. Hoss and Little Joe had helped – along with a few adults including the mud puddle hero – or at least that was _their_ word for it. Hoss and Joe had been joined by Mitch Devlin, whose Pa was also lending a hand, and the three little boys had whooped and hollered like Indians as they tore down the remnants of streamers and autumn decorations and ran outside with them to a bonfire Pa's hand, a man named Gabe, had started. In the end, he'd managed to advance to a kiss on the lips along with a promise for dinner the next Saturday night, and both of his brothers had been so worn out by the time they left that they'd slept all the way back to the Ponderosa. Hoss woke up when they reached the house and managed to find his own way upstairs, while he carried Little Joe up and placed him in bed and – for once – the kid slept through the night. All in all it was proving to be a most pleasant few days.

That was, until Little Joe fell apart.

It was a funny thing with kids. Keep them busy and they'll forget their own name. But let them have time to think...

That morning Little Joe had come down the stairs looking for Hoss, forgetting that his brother had returned to school. When he realized Hoss was gone, the tears started to fall. Unfortunately, _he'd_ been busy at the time and instead of trying to comfort him, he'd foisted the disturbed little boy off on Hop Sing. Hop Sing had been in the middle of calculating what supplies they would need to weather the winter and it turned out the Chinese man's temper that day was just about as short as a tail hold on a bear. By the time he'd arrived home for a late lunch, he'd found Little Joe sitting in the dining room with his nose in the corner. Well, not really sitting. Sort of crouching so his backside was about an inch off the leather seat.

Little Joe, of course, ran to him the minute he entered the room, sobbing his little heart out. It took a while to get the story out of him between the sniffles, hiccups, and sighs. Apparently, Joe being Joe, he'd decided to be helpful and as Hop Sing piled things in one place after counting them, Joe would diligently pick them up and return them to the original pile thinking that was where they belonged. Personally, he thought Hop Sing's punishment was a little harsh. The poor kid wasn't trying to be a pest. Still, since their cook was a grown man and _he_ wasn't considered one yet, there was little he could do but back him up.

Little Joe was crushed.

Everything might have worked out if Hoss had come straight home from school. After being officially reprieved (it had taken a lot of promises, but he'd managed to get Hop Sing to relent and let Joe out of the corner), Little Joe took up a post on the settee, facing the door, to await the return of his 'charge'. Unfortunately, instead of Hoss showing, there was a knock at the door and he opened it to find John Devlin. John had come to tell him that Hoss had been feeling poorly by the end of the school day and his wife had 'kidnapped' the eleven-year-old and taken him to their home so the boy could rest and she could fatten him up.

As if Hoss needed fattening up.

When the man added that Hoss might stay the night, Little Joe – who had watched the proceedings wide-eyed – deflated like a balloon without air.

After that it had been one thing after another. A bored Little Joe was always an invitation to disaster. The last straw came when the kid wanted to play checkers and since Hoss still wasn't home, begged and begged and begged _him_ to play. He'd been crunching numbers, trying to get some calculations done before their father returned and didn't even look up.

 _Until_ he heard the checkerboard and all the checkers crash to the floor.

 _That_ had been the last straw.

Like the wrath of God he'd descended, scooped Little Joe up, and took him up the stairs in one swift motion, and then almost literally threw him onto the bed. He scolded him and, after helping the little boy into his night shirt and tucking him under the covers, ordered him to stay put until the cows came home!

That was when it happened. Joe thrust his lip out and folded his little arms over his chest. He thought at first it was a gesture of defiance, but then the little boy's lip began to tremble and those big emerald-green eyes flooded with tears and he started to wail.

"Where's Hoss?" A breath here, dramatically poised. "Doctor Paul told me to watch out for him or he'd get sick. How come he isn't home? Is he dead?!"

Good Lord.

An hour after that – and a million and a half assurances later that neither Hoss or Pa (who came in late into the conversation) were dead – he'd finally extricated himself from the situation and returned to his paperwork, but only because Little Joe cried himself to sleep – and that was _only_ after a glass of warm milk, a bedtime story, opening the window a crack for air, and leaving the oil lamp by his bedside with the wick turned up to chase away the monsters who might come in the open window. Finishing the paperwork took until midnight and he had just gotten out of his clothes and into his robe and laid down on his bed with a deep satisfied sigh when a wail worthy of an off-key soprano in a ten cent opera house split the air.

He got it. Really, he did. It hadn't been all that long since Joe's mother had died. It was only a month back, maybe six weeks, that his littlest brother had returned to his own bed and managed – for the most part – to stay in it and sleep through the night. It had gone on so long Pa told them to ignore it as best they could and stay in bed and get some sleep and that _he_ would see to their brother.

Right. Sleep.

With a siren going off in the next room.

Abandoning his bed and any hope of sleep, like a zombie he'd walked the hall and gone to Joe's room, opened the door, and stepped inside. Little Joe's eyes were closed. Tears streaked his baby face. He was turning from side to side and murmuring and moaning. The sheet and coverlet were wound around him with the grip of an eight armed octopus. He'd gone over to his brother and sat on the side of the bed and started rubbing his back like Pa always did, speaking softly and telling Joe everyone and everything was safe and secure including him. After a while the little boy grew quiet and seemed to fall into a deep sleep.

'Seemed' being the operative word.

The clock in the hall had just struck three when he heard his brother talking. He'd been dreaming himself and lay there for a little while just to make sure he was hearing what he thought he was. It was funny, because Joe didn't sound particularly upset, but he sure was talking up a blue streak. After a minute everything went quiet.

 _Too_ quiet, it turned out, since he couldn't get back to sleep.

And so, about ten minutes later, he had put on his slippers and robe and headed down the hall and now, here he was, ready to go into Joe's room for the second time even though there was no practical reason to do so.

Adam snorted.

Was _this_ what it was like to be a father?

Between the low-burning oil lamp and the moonlight streaming in the window, it was easy to navigate the room. Little Joe's bed linens were piled in a small heap in the center of the bed. The weary teenager scratched his head and yawned. Somewhere under that cloth mountain was his baby brother and he supposed he had better find him and stretch him out and return the bed to some sense of order just in case Pa got back early and decided to come in and check on the little squirt. As he approached the bed, out of the corner of his eye, Adam saw something shift in the yard. Curious, he went to the window to see what it was, but by the time he arrived there was nothing there. Just the an empty yard and three hours 'til sun-up. The window was still open, so he closed it, knowing how Pa worried about the night air.

Stifling another yawn, the black-haired youth turned and headed to his brother's bed. Reaching out, Adam patted the mountainous pile of covers and was stunned when they collapsed. With his hand still extended over the bed, he blinked. Then he reached out and patted the covers again, starting in the center and moving farther and farther out until he reached the edge.

The bed was empty.

Panic gripped him – for just a second. Then he smiled with relief and dropped to his knees and looked under the bed.

Nothing.

Rising to his feet, Adam turned in a circle, checking every corner. He almost wished the moonlight hadn't been so bright, because then he might have been able to convince himself that he'd somehow missed the kid huddling in one of them. But Little Joe wasn't asleep on the floor in the corner.

Little Joe was _gone._

Flying into the hall, Adam made a beeline for Hoss' room. Joe had been worried about Hoss, so it made sense he might crawl into his bed. Unfortunately, when he opened the door, it was all too apparent Hoss' bed had been unslept in. Pa's room was next on his list with the same result. Two minutes later Adam found himself knocking on Hop Sing's door, rousing their irate cook from a sound sleep. Hop Sing let him have it in Chinese before he could open his mouth to explain why he'd so rudely awakened him, and then spent the next two minutes apologizing in broken English once he understood what was wrong. Apologies accepted, the two of them set out to search the rest of the house, checking every nook and cranny a little boy might find a way to wedge himself into.

 _Still_ nothing.

Which left outside. Outside with the stable and corral full of horses, and beyond that fields and forests with wild animals and rivers with rapids and a desert with high promontories of rock with bone-jarring drops. So _many_ things that one took for granted. So many simple, _everyday_ things that could prove deadly to a five-year-old boy lost and on his own.

Only Little Joe wasn't lost _or_ on his own.

He'd just slammed his arms into his coat and grabbed Joe's small woolen one. Hop Sing was shouting and shoving a bag of food at him, telling him he needed to take it because 'naughty baby boy' – that's it, _rub_ it in! – would be hungry when he found him. As he slung the pack over his shoulder, Adam wondered which thing it was that had driven Joe out of the house – Hop Sing being mad at him, his 'orders' from Doc Martin to take care of Hoss, him being short-tempered, or simply Pa being away.

In the end, it was none of them. In the end it turned out Little Joe had a very _good_ reason for coming up missing.

When he stepped out of the door, Hop Sing followed him onto the porch. He'd nearly made it to the stable when their cook started yelling again – this time using a curious mix of Cantonese and English, most of which was unintelligible. Most but not _all._ He heard five words _very_ clearly.

'...why note pinned to door?'

His heart in his throat, he'd turned around and walked woodenly back to the porch. He got there just as Hop Sing pulled the knife out of the wood and a little piece of paper fluttered to the ground. A little innocuous piece of paper with an elegant script covering about a third of it.

An elegant script that contained a message that had the power to change their lives forever.

' _I have your son. Involve the law and the boy dies. Find me and we'll talk..._

Adam ran a trembling hand over his chin as he read the last line.

' _And bring Marie.'_


	4. Chapter 3

THREE

Buck tossed his head, blew air out of his nose, and looked back at him.

"What?" Ben snapped – and then remembered the horse couldn't answer, at least not with words. Still, his current buckskin said _plenty_ with those big black eyes of his.

The rancher laughed as he leaned forward to pat his friend's golden neck. "Sorry, boy. I'm not angry with you."

In truth, if he was to admit that he was angry with anyone, it would have to be God. The entire trip to bid on the horses had been a bust. He never even made it to Placerville. A series of mishaps that included a sudden downpour, the result of which was an unexpected landslide that blocked the road and marooned a pair of older women whose buggy got caught in it, had resulted in him – covered from head to toe in bracken, bruises, and mud – turning his feet toward home a day and a half early. At this moment there was nothing on the face of the earth that he wanted more, or that would be a better balm to his weary soul, than seeing the surprised and loving looks on his sons' faces when he rode into the yard. That, and sharing one of Hop Sing's hearty breakfasts with them. Most likely Little Joe wouldn't be out of bed yet. That boy could sleep! Of course, Joseph's more than healthy sleeping habits were due to the fact that the child expended more energy in an hour than the rest of them did in an entire day!

As they rounded the corner of the barn Buck snorted with what he could only describe as relief. The older man felt it too. But he felt something else. Something...

Wrong.

As he dismounted, the rancher's gaze went once again to the spot where his beloved wife had breathed her last. Ben closed his eyes and suppressed a shudder, and then opened them and chided himself for behaving like a superstitious old woman. Leading Buck past the spot to the hitching rail, he wrapped his reins around it, gave his friend a pat, and headed for the house. He was breaking one of his own rules, but he didn't care.

First he'd surprise the boys, and _then_ he would take care of his mount.

Ben had taken no more than ten steps when a sound caused him to turn back toward the barn. Adam was standing in front of it. The boy was dressed for travel and his horse was kitted out for at least a day's journey. With a smile on his face, the rancher approached his son.

"You're up early," he said. A glance at Adam's horse revealed a rifle firmly seated in the leather holster attached to the saddle. "Are you going hunting?"

Adam gaped at him as if he were an apparition risen out of the morning mist. His lips were moving, but no sound issued forth. He wet them, swallowed, and tried again.

"Pa? Is it _really_ you?"

A sudden terror gripped the older man's heart.

There were unspent tears in his son's eyes.

"Adam, son, what is it?"

His eldest's hazel eyes flicked to his saddle before returning to him. Ben frowned and looked again. He'd seen it before but paid no attention – a small blue and green wool bundle bound with twine and resting on the back jockey.

It was Little Joe's winter coat.

Stepping forward, he gripped the boy's arm and demanded, perhaps a bit _too_ harshly, "Where is your brother?"

Adam looked like he might be sick. He blinked back tears and then reached into his tan coat and drew out a crumpled piece of paper.

"I'm _so_ sorry, Pa," he said as he held it out.

If he'd had to describe that moment to anyone, he would have said he'd heard a clap of thunder. The words written on the paper deafened him. They struck him dumb and rendered him unable to move. He had no idea how long he stood there, staring at the four impossible sentences written so indifferently in ink, before he spoke.

Finally, he managed to utter, "Little Joe's...gone?"

Adam was every bit a man. He'd _had_ to be since he was old enough to understand and carry out an order. Ben watched the teenager's jaw tighten. Then he saw him square his feet.

"It's my fault, Pa. If anything..." His son paused, cleared his throat, and continued, "I should have seen this coming.

Ben glanced at the note again.

' _I have your son. Involve the law and the boy dies. Find me and we'll talk._

' _And bring Marie.'_

How could anyone have seen _this_ coming?

Obviously whoever had taken Joseph knew nothing of his wife's death. Or did they? Was the request to 'bring Marie' just a cruel taunt – a way to tell him his small son was doomed to die? He opened his mouth to demand of Adam how this had happened, and then he realized it didn't matter. It _had_ happened. If there was any wrong doing on anyone's part, there would be time to discover and deal with it later. One look at the boy told him his oldest was already punishing himself enough, whether or not there was any guilt that was actually Adam's to shoulder.

At that moment the door behind him opened. Seconds later Ben heard the familiar, chastising voice.

"Why you not come in? You need eat quick! Get on road. Find little boy before something happen..." Hop Sing fell silent. His next words carried softly on the rising breeze. "Mistah Cartwright. _So_ glad to see you. God know you need come home early."

The older man closed his eyes and sighed. He'd been angry with God about all the delays. He'd thought those _damn_ horses were so important.

They meant nothing now.

Ben read the note again and then carefully folded it and placed it in his pocket. A moment later he nodded toward Adam's horse.

"You were going after him?"

His eldest's look was determined. "It's what the kidnapper seems to want. ' _Find me and we'll talk'_. Only, I didn't know what to do about..."

Only he didn't know what to do about Marie. There was no way they could give this man – whoever he was – what he demanded.

And _he_ had to be the one to tell him that.

"I'm coming with you."

He'd been riding hard and was tired. He was also hungry and filthy, but none of those things mattered.

Only _Joseph_ mattered.

Adam was eying him and his current state. "Pa, why don't you take a moment to rest and change? I'll see to Buck." His son favored him with a wan smile. "Hop Sing's going to be really mad if _someone_ doesn't eat his breakfast."

He'd been about to respond when he realized what Adam had said. A new fear gripped him.

"Hoss?" he asked, breathless..

"Sorry. Again." Adam frowned "Hoss is at the Devlins. He went to school and wasn't feeling up to snuff by the time it ended. Mrs. Devlin got hold of him and insisted he go home with them to rest. Said he needed a woman's touch. He ended up spending the night."

Thank God. At least he knew _two_ of his boys were safe.

"Mistah Adam right. You come in and you eat. Hop Sing put out fresh clothes. No more smell like bog."

Ben rounded on his cook. The Chinese man was serious.

Still, what did it matter what he smelled like? Joseph had been _taken._

His _five_ year old had been kidnapped!

The older man shook his head. "No. We need to go now while the trail is fresh. There's rain on the way. I rode ahead of it." He saw Adam blanch. His son knew what that meant. A hard November rain this late in the season would wash away all signs. "I'm going in the house to get the cash in the safe. Even though he didn't demand it, we can only pray that whoever took Little Joe is after the money."

"Hop Sing go get food then. Put in bag," the cook huffed. "Get some chocolate cookies too. Send with boy's father so boy not run away when he smells him!"

The two of them watched Hop Sing depart in silence. For several long uncomfortable minutes they stood there, robbed of action by the full impact of what they were facing. Someone – a madman who had made an impossible demand they could in no way meet – had his son. Joseph's only hope might lay in escape, but the boy was so small and so inexperienced, it was unlikely he could survive a night alone in the wild.

Finally, Adam stirred. He cleared his throat and then asked, "Pa, why do you think the kidnapper wants us to bring Marie?"

Ben's fingers found the note in his pocket. It made little sense. The only thing he could think of was that the person who took Joseph was the man on William Olin's poster and that somehow – somewhere – there was a connection to Marie.

He opened his mouth to reply, but it was then he heard it.

Wagon wheels.

A moment later the vehicle appeared. Ben's heart lifted when he saw his eleven-year-old son driving it. Beside him sat John Devlin. Hoss made a kissing sound and gracefully brought the team to a halt. As he did, a smile broke out on his broad face.

"Pa! What're you doin' home?" the boy asked as he handed the reins to John and then leapt from the wagon and ran toward him. "Ain't you supposed to be in Placerville?"

When the boy reached him, Ben took him in his arms and hugged him hard – perhaps a little _too_ hard. Hoss was a sensitive boy; as sensitive as his Swedish mother had been. Hoss looked at Adam and then those sky blue eyes of his returned to him.

"What's wrong, Pa?"

John Devlin followed hard on his heels. Noting the disheveled state he was in, his friend and neighbor asked, his tone light and jovial, "What happened, Ben? Did you decide to take on a mountain and lose?"

The rancher hesitated.

John mistook his silence for anger. He pursed his lips and shrugged. "Sorry to bring the boy by so early, Ben. It looks like you were just heading out. I was going to take Hoss to school and then bring him over this afternoon, but classes were cancelled. Miss Jones is sick now."

Of course, classes were cancelled. _Anything_ to make this morning more difficult.

"It's all right, John. We were just heading out to...track a cat." Ben turned back to his middle boy. Hoss was shoulder-high to him, so he barely had to look down. "Hop Sing has breakfast ready, Hoss. Why don't you go inside and get something to eat?"

The inevitable question followed. "Is Little Joe awake yet? 'Cause if he ain't, I can go up and get him."

John had sensed something. His tone was tense. "Ben?"

"Pa. I think you should tell them," Adam said softly.

"Tell me what?" Hoss demanded, his tone bordering on insolent. "What is it I don't know?" Then, as it had since the moment Joseph drew breath, the inner compass Inger's son had regarding his baby brother pointed the way to trouble. "Something's happened to Little Joe, ain't it?" Hoss caught his arm in a fierce grip. "Pa? What ain't you tellin' me? Is he hurt?"

Ben drew a deep breath. The truth came out in words almost too painful to utter. "Your brother is missing."

"Missin'?" Hoss turned on Adam; his tone accusatory. "How come you didn't watch him? I bet he was makin' you mad. How come you done _lost_ him, Adam?"

"Hoss," the rancher cautioned, "placing blame won't help us find your brother."

"How long has the boy been gone?" John asked quietly.

It took a moment for Ben to realize he had no answer. He turned to his son. "Adam?"

His older boy stumbled on his words. "I checked on him... I mean, I went into Joe's room a little after midnight. He was...gone by 3:00."

Five hours. Almost six now.

Hoss was tugging on his coat. His son's eyes were bright; his tone eager. "Pa! We gotta go after him! Now! I can track him! You _know_ I can, Pa. I'm better than any of the hands."

Ben shook his head. "No, son, you've been sick. I don't want you –"

"I'm fit as a fiddle!" the boy declared, setting both his lower lip and his large feet. "I ain't stayin' behind. Little Joe _needs_ me!"

"You'll do as I say," he stated flatly.

Hoss did something unusual then. He went toe to toe with him.

"Beggin' your pardon, but I won't, sir! You'll have to tie me to the bedpost to keep me from followin' you. Pa..." Tears entered his son's eyes. "It's _Little Joe_. I gotta..." The boy drew a steadying breath. "I just _gotta_ go!"

The rancher ran a hand over his stubbled cheeks. He should have been used to it by now – life turning before the ink was dry.

"Ben?"

It was John Devlin. "What is it, John?" he managed to ask.

"I'll go into the settlement and let William Olin know. We'll raise a search party." His neighbor glanced toward the sky. "If we have a group of men, we can canvas the area more quickly. That way, hopefully, we'll find Little Joe before dark."

Ben's fingers brushed his pocket. He glanced at Adam and then back to Hoss. These were the moments when innocence was lost.

And there was nothing he could do about it.

"William can't know," he said.

Pulling the paper from his pocket, Ben handed it to John without a word. The other man read it quickly, and then read it again.

"Good Lord, Ben!" he remarked. "What are you going to do?"

Adam had moved over to stand by Hoss. He had his arm around his brother's shoulders. Tears streamed down the younger boy's face.

"Whoever has Little Joe, they ain't... They ain't gonna hurt him? Are they, Pa?" Hoss pleaded.

Ben took the dreaded note back from John, pocketed it, and then walked over to his sons. He placed one hand on Adam's shoulder and the other on Hoss'.

"Most likely it's money he's after," he said. "I intend to give the man all I have. If he wants more, then I'll sell the Ponderosa – _all_ of it if need be." His fingers dug into both boy's shoulders to emphasize his words. "There is nothing more important to me than you boys. Do you hear me? _Nothing!"_

They stood there a moment, linked by flesh, and joined in fear, hope, and determination. Of course, Hoss would come. How could he have thought otherwise?

They were family – the four of them.

And still, so it seemed, was Marie.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Little Joe wiggled. There were ropes wrapped around his wrists and he didn't like them. They were scratchy and trying to get them off had made his skin red and raw. Meat was supposed to be red and raw – at least until it was cooked – but his skin wasn't supposed to be. He'd fallen one time and skinned up his knees somethin' awful and come into the house with them lookin' like raw meat and everybody had made a fuss over him. The curly-headed boy sniffed and fought back tears. He _really_ wanted somebody to make a fuss over him now, but there was nobody to do it but the man who worked for his pa who had lied to him. At first, it had been fun. He'd heard a knock on his window. Hoss' friends did that sometimes – comin' to his window or his brother's – so he wasn't afraid. When he went to see who it was, Pa's hand was there, smilin' at him. Gabe was the one who kept him fallin' in the mud puddle before church and helped to clean up after the party, so when he asked to come in he figured it was all right. Pa trusted him, so why shouldn't he? Gabe climbed right in the window, just like he was comin' through the door, and told how he thought Adam was bein' mean because he wouldn't let him go take care of Hoss like he'd promised the doctor. Gabe told him if he would come with him, he would take him to Hoss but, when he did and they got to the ground, he grabbed him and put a cloth in his mouth and threw him on the saddle in front of him and started riding. Joe sniffed back tears. Gabe said he was his friend. He was _no_ friend! He was a bad man. And since Gabe _was_ a bad man, he supposed he didn't care about how much the ropes hurt or how much they made his wrists look like raw meat.

Otherwise, he wouldn't have tied him up in the first place!

Joe looked down. There were ropes around his legs too, so he couldn't run, but his legs weren't raw. His twill pants were a whole lot thicker than his cotton shirt. And he had boots on too. He'd dressed up good, only he was in a hurry 'cause he was afraid he'd get caught and he forgot his coat, which was really stupid 'cause it was rainin' and he was cold. He knew he shouldn't have gone with Gabe. Pa was sure gonna be mad! But he'd gone with Gabe because he seemed to be the _only_ one who understood that he'd promised Doctor Martin that he would look out for Hoss and he couldn't do that if he wasn't the same place Hoss was. The little boy bit his lip as he looked around, first at the bad man sittin' by the fire eatin' beans and talkin' to himself, and then at the big red rocks rising above him that were turnin' dark brown with the rain.

If he'd of known he was goin' to end up in the desert at night, he would have thought things through better. Now, here he was, stuck smack in the middle of it with a bad man, without his coat, shivering and shaking and hungry and tired, and he knew he should be a man and be able to look out for himself just like his brothers, but...

He wanted his pa.

 _Bad._

Maybe, he thought, if he yelled really loud Pa would hear him all the way over there in Placerville. Adam would say it was stupid to think that, but it just might work. But, he couldn't yell. The bad man had pulled a red bandana through his teeth and tied it behind his head, twistin' some of the curls in with the knot so they pulled every time he shifted and made his eyes water. That was why he was cryin'. Not 'cause he was afraid. He wasn't afraid. Cartwrights didn't _get_ afraid. Everyone knew that. Everyone knew not to mess with the Cartwrights. He'd heard Adam say once that their Pa was made of iron and that he'd hammer anyone who ever tried to take anything that was his.

 _He_ was his.

He sure wanted Pa to hammer the bad man so he could go home.

He _sure_ wanted to go home.

No.

Joe bit his lip. Hard.

 _I...will...not...cry._

 _I will not..._

Joe flinched as Gabe stood up abruptly and tossed the remainder of his beans into the brush. He hadn't offered him any. That was okay. He didn't think he could have kept them down and throwing up wasn't something he liked to do. Besides, the bad man might think if he threw up that he was afraid and he _wasn't_ afraid.

A sound made him look up. He drew in a breath and held it as his eyes went from the man's brown boots to his brown pants, and on up to his brown shirt and hair.

Joe swallowed hard. Pa was gonna tan him for sure when he got home, ' cause he _sure_ was a liar.

He was afraid.

 _Very_ afraid.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

They'd left home as soon as they could, which put them on the road mid-morning. It was mid-afternoon now and they'd stopped to take some nourishment before moving on. Ben glanced at the two sons he had with him who sat near the small fire they had kindled. Hoss was pushing beans around on his plate while Adam sat, his food untouched, staring into the distance. His eldest's son's thoughts were his own, but he knew what they were.

Adam was carrying the weight of the world on his young shoulders.

He'd forced himself to eat, though it had been about all he could do. Fear for his young son gnawed at his gut. It bothered him immensely that no demand had been made for money. He'd brought the $5000 with him in his saddlebags anyway, but he feared this man was after something else – something less...concrete. He kicked himself now for not paying more attention to William Olin's warning. The only thing that made any sense was that this man – whoever he was – had some connection to New Orleans and to his dead wife.

Ben ran a trembling hand over his eyes. He could hear Marie, chiding him for being away from home when it happened, and pleading with him to find and save their son.

After placing his plate on the ground beside his muddy boot, Ben reached into his pocket and drew out the wanted poster. He'd pocketed it before they left, thinking somehow it might help. He stared at the sketch for the hundredth time, searching the poor rendition of the more than ordinary face. Sadly, it could have been anyone. Ben's grip tightened on the worn paper. In a way, that fact made it _worse_ ; realizing that someone so commonplace – someone you wouldn't have given a second thought – could be capable of such an abominable act as snatching a small boy from his bed for God only knew what nefarious purpose. His hands shaking, the rancher returned the poster to his pocket and drew out note Adam had found pinned to their door.

' _I have your son. No law or the boy dies. Find me and we'll talk. And bring Marie.'_

What did that mean? 'Bring Marie'? Why? Ben closed his eyes, trying to imagine the flesh and blood man represented in the sketch on the wanted poster. Plain. Nondescript. Someone you wouldn't notice unless they knocked you down. Brown hair, brown boots, tanned skin; a brown suit.

Ben's eyes flashed open. "Good Lord!" he exclaimed.

"Pa, you ain't supposed to take the Lord's name in vain," Hoss cautioned softly as he looked up from his half-eaten meal.

Adam unfolded his long legs and came to his side. "What is it, Pa?"

He drew the poster from his pocket again. With a quaking finger, he pointed at it. "This man. I hired him about a week back."

His son frowned. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. His name is Gabriel Eagle." He looked at his son. "You might not have met him. I sent him up to one of the camps first thing."

Adam's frown had deepened into a scowl. He held out his hand. Ben surrendered the poster and watched as his eldest son assessed the criminal's face.

"The mud puddle hero," he murmured.

"Mud puddle hero?"

Adam went to Hoss and handed him the poster. "Do you see it?" he asked.

Hoss scrunched up his nose. "Maybe."

Ben was lost _._ "Maybe what?"

"Sorry, Pa," Adam said. "I'm not being deliberately vague. I just don't want to make a mistake." When he continued to glower, the teenager went on. "Sunday after church Hoss and Little Joe and I stayed behind to help Maddie clean up from the dance. A couple of men joined us. One of them said he was a new hand. His name was Gabe. He caught Little Joe before the service. Saved him from stumbling into a mud puddle. And then I saw him talking to Joe at the hall." He gestured toward the sketch. "If this _is_ Gabe, it means he was watching Joe even then. Planning to..."

He had hired this man and let him into his son's life. It would never have occurred to him that Gabriel Eagle – or anyone – would have hired on at the Ponderosa with sinister intent. Little Joe would have instinctively trusted him since...since the little boy knew his Pa had trusted the man enough to hire him.

Ben felt sick.

It was because of _him_ that Gabriel Eagle had been able to come close enough – to learn enough about their lives and their movements – to find a perfect window of opportunity to snatch his youngest son.

"Pa, you can't blame yourself," Adam said softly.

His eldest knew him _too_ well.

"Yes, I can. And I _do!_ I can't believe I was taken in by this...criminal!"

"Pa, you're a good man. You tend to think other men are good too." His son sighed. "That's not a bad thing. A man grows hard if he fears all the time. Pa. Let it go. What's important right now is to find Little Joe and do whatever it takes to get him away from that madman."

It took a moment, but he nodded. "You're right, son."

"There's another thing, Pa."

"Oh?"

"I've been thinking... It seems, well, like you said, I don't think this man took Little Joe for the money. After all, there was only one demand – that we 'bring Marie'." When he said nothing, Adam went on. "Do you think you _could_ have known him from before?" Adam hesitated. "Or maybe Marie did? Maybe he's holding something against her and he took Little Joe to get back at her, or to make her pay attention?"

Ben felt a tug on his sleeve. He looked down. He had forgotten about Hoss.

The boy had tears in his eyes.

"What is Adam sayin' about mama?"

Yes.

What about Marie?

His third wife had been a devastatingly beautiful woman. She had been generous, loving, spirited, and every bit as willful as her child. And like her child, when young, she had been prone to believe in people; to open herself up to them. If they returned that love, they would never have a truer friend. If they did not – if they wounded her or someone she cared about – they became the enemy. There had been many men in Marie's life before he married her. In the time he was in New Orleans, he had encountered at least a dozen. They were drawn to her like moths to flame and spent their time vying for her attention. Could Gabriel Eagle have been among them?

And if he had been, dear God in Heaven, what did he want with Marie's son?

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

When they got far enough into the desert, the bad man took the gag out of Joe's mouth and offered him some water. He wanted to spit it back in his face but he was too thirsty, so he drank it and just thought about what kind of fun it would be to spit. Closing his eyes, the little boy imagined the spit and water mixin' and drippin' down the bad man's cheek until it settled in his brown mustache, makin' the ends turn down. That made Joe smile at first, but after a second or two it made him think about the bad man frowning. Gabe frowning wasn't a good thing.

He'd done that after he caught him when tried to run away.

It hadn't been very long ago. He'd begged and begged for the bad man to take the ropes off his feet and let him go pee. When he had, he'd taken off faster than a cut cat. He almost made it too, but Gabe had longer legs than he did and even though he had a good start, he couldn't run fast enough to get away. The bad man picked him up and threw him down at the foot of a big rock and wound the ropes around his ankles again so tight they hurt. Then he frowned.

And then he hit him.

"You're nothing but trouble, you know that, boy?" Gabe snarled. "What am I going to do with you?"

It was probably stupid, but the bad man had asked. "Let me go?" Joe replied in a small voice.

Gabe stared at him a moment more and then he shook his head. "No. I can't do that. I _owe_ her. And Gabriel Eagle is a man who makes good his debts." Bending down, the bad man placed the canteen against his lips. "Now, drink up, boy. We got us a ways to go and it's gonna be hot."

Joe didn't want to take anything from the bad man, but he knew he'd die if he didn't drink, so he did. He took a long drink of water and held it in his mouth and rolled it around before swallowing, just like Adam had taught him. Gabe wasn't lying. The day was what Hoss called 'a scorcher'. The sun was beating down on them and everywhere around them was dry sand and rock. In the distance Joe could see that big old bunch of rocks the Indians thought looked like it a stairway goin' straight up from the earth to Heaven; the one Pa said the Spanish called 'Eagles Promontory'.

"I wonder if she's up there," he said without knowing it.

"What's that, boy?"

Joe bristled. "My name's 'Joe'. Stop callin' me 'boy'!"

The bad man turned toward him. A sneer lifted the corner of one lip. "You're hers, all right. Same eyes, same look – same mouth. Now, what did you say?"

Joe clamped his lips shut and shook his head.

The bad man held up the bandana. "If you aren't going to talk, I might as well put this back where it belongs."

Joe wet his lips. He'd do just about anything to keep that old dirty red bandana out of his mouth. "I said, 'I wonder if she's up there?'" He nodded toward the ridge. "It looks like I could climb right up to Heaven. I thought...well, maybe..." It was stupid, he knew. "Maybe if I climbed it, I could find her."

Gabe frowned. He turned and eyed the cliff. When he turned back, the sneer had made it to his brown eyes.

"You ain't gonna need no stairway to get to Heaven, boy. That's what _I'm_ here for."


	5. Chapter 4

FOUR

He'd never forgotten her. How could he?

All of his life he had been invisible – a no one with no prospects who did nothing worthy of attention. He'd drifted from job to job and place to place until his late twenties, never making an impression; never staying long, and never leaving anyone behind who cared enough to ask where he was going. No one cared if he drew breath and that was all right with him. It gave him freedom, let him get on with things, some of them legal – most of them not.

Yes, he'd been quite happy until...

Until he laid eyes on Marie de Marigny.

And then – suddenly – he felt the need to do something, to _be_ someone. She was like the candle's flame, her beauty incandescent. It attracted every male within a hundred square miles. They fluttered around Marie, a bunch of empty-headed Beau Brummels filling the air with vapid, empty words in the hope that she would grace them with a smile. He'd been there too, sitting at a table, leaning on the bar, sending her roses, a glass of champagne, even an unsigned note telling her she was all he dreamed of, but he never approached her. She had to come to him.

To pay attention to _him_.

Gabriel Eagle stared down at the sleeping form of Ben Cartwright's young son. The boy was huddled up, trying to keep warm; his small shivering body laying just within reach of the weather-hardened toes of his own brown boots.

She'd pay attention now.

For a moment he considered toeing the boy to wakefulness, but decided against it. It was early and he wasn't ready for his mouth. Leaving the brat where he lay, the now more-than-ordinary man stepped out from under the overhang of rock where he had made camp to stare at ridge that lay before him. It was, perhaps, a mile away. Today or tomorrow, they would reach it. Today or tomorrow, he would watch and wait for Ben Cartwright, for Marie to show and then...

Gabe ran two fingers across his forehead, massaging it. It had confused him – what the boy said. Just like what that woman in town said at the church. It had almost sounded like Marie was...

No.

 _No._

Marie wasalive. He knew it because he'd seen her. _Everyday_ he'd seen her. When he looked at the ranch house as he passed by on his way to work – the house Ben Cartwright brought Marie to after he'd stolen her away – he'd see her in the window, staring out, pleading for someone to rescue her.

Cartwright might keep her hidden, jealous of his treasure, but he couldn't stop him from seeing her anymore than he could keep him from setting her free.

When he found out Marie had left New Orleans, at first, he didn't know what to do. Then, with sudden insight, he _did_. He would make something of himself and then he would seek her out and show her what he had become. Along the way there'd been a few mistakes. How was he to know that woman in Kansas hadn't been Marie? She'd looked just like her. He'd caught hold of her as she left the Palace and dragged her into a back alley.

When she'd refused him, well...

He hadn't served time for it. The judge understood. He'd nodded at him as he sent him to a place where there were nurses instead of deputies.

A place that was easy to escape.

After that he went from town to town, searching, listening, learning, until he found out where Ben Cartwright had taken her. He found out too that Marie had a child. The boy was a problem. He bound her to Ben Cartwright. But that didn't matter. He'd thought of a way to take care of both the boy and his father at once.

Gabriel Eagle turned and looked at the sleeping child.

Marie would go with him, once there was nothing to hold her _here_ anymore.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

John Devlin and the men he'd raised for a search party caught up to them as the new day dawned. Roy Coffee was among them – as a friend and concerned citizen, he assured him, and not in any connection with William or the law. Paul Martin was there too, his doctor's bag in hand. While that reassured him, it frightened him as well.

Ben's dark eyes narrowed as they canvassed the barren land before him. If the truth be known, it frightened him just to have the others in the area. There was no way of knowing how Gabriel Eagle would react to their presence. He'd discussed it with John and Roy and in the end they'd sent about half the search party back home. The remaining half-dozen men promised they would keep a low profile. The ones who remained were _good_ men. He knew them all. They were homesteaders and ranchers like him, men with wives they loved and children they cherished.

They knew one wrong move could cost Joseph his life.

Paul Martin was among the men who remained. He set out with Roy Coffee. The rest chose partners and then did the same while Hoss and Adam stayed with him. The rain had come as he anticipated but – thank God! – had been a gentle one that left most of Eagle's tracks intact. Roy had insisted they split up and search the area regardless. The kidnapper could have laid a false trail, he said. He'd agreed. With Joseph's life at stake, he wasn't about to take any chances. His friends left about dawn to begin their search, moving a mile or so out and then returning in an ever-tightening circle. Their chosen rendezvous for later that night was the large outcropping of rock the Indians called _God's Stair._

"Pa."

Ben started and turned. He'd become lost in thought. "What is it, Adam?"

His son hesitated. There was something in his eyes. Pain, yes. Guilt. Perhaps even grief. But there was something more.

Adam was crushed.

"I tried, Pa, but I'm not..." The teenager drew in a deep breath and let it out in a sigh. "I'm not... _you_ , Pa. Hoss needs you. He's taking this really hard."

Hoss.

Dear Lord, he'd hadn't given the boy a thought for hours.

Ten long strides took him to his son's side. Looking at Hoss sitting there, huddled up, with his back against a broad stone, he realized how very young he was. Even he forgot sometimes just _how_ young. Hoss was often mistaken by strangers for someone well into their teens. In truth, Inger's son was barely more than a baby himself.

That truth became all the more apparent when his son lifted his tear-filled eyes and wailed., "Little Joe's gonna die, ain't he Pa? Just like Ma!"

It was harder, in a way, to comfort this gentle soul than his other sons. He couldn't take Hoss on his lap as he had Adam, as he did Little Joe, or wrap him in his arms in such a way as to shut out the world. Joseph, when frightened, could bury his head in his shirt and be swallowed up in safety. Hoss, on the other hand – though still a child – could only be comforted as a man, with an arm around his shoulder or a simple hug.

Dropping to the ground beside him, Ben did just that. He circled his son's broad shoulders with his arm. Hoss leaned into him and for a moment the two of them just sat there, lost in their mutual sorrow.

When he had composed himself, Ben spoke softly. "I promise, son, I will do everything I can to find and rescue your brother and bring him home. Once we find this man and know what he wants –"

Hoss' head came up. "But we know what he wants, Pa, and we can't give it to him! That's why I'm afeared somethin' _awful_ will happen to Little Joe. There weren't no way we could bring Ma!"

"I know, son. I'll just have to explain that to him. Once Gabriel knows your mother is no longer with us, he'll understand. He'll _have_ to understand."

Hoss' reddish-brown brows drew together and his lips pursed as if he was pouting. You could almost see the wheels turning behind his crystal blue eyes.

"Sir, I don't mean no disrespect," his young son began, his tone daring, "but it seems to me a man who can steal a baby boy ain't a man who's gonna understand nothin', or be nice if he don't get his way."

Ben drew in a breath and held it a moment before releasing it. The words were hollow, but they were ones his son needed to hear. Maybe ones _he_ needed to hear as well.

"In the end, Hoss, there is only one thing we can do for your brother that is certain. You know what that is, don't you?"

It took the boy a moment. "You mean pray?"

The older man nodded. The words were forced, but even in his despair he knew them to be true. "Yes. We must ask God to keep your brother safe until we can find him."

"I'm gonna be honest, Pa. I just don't know if I can do that," Hoss said softly as tears trailed down his cheeks.

Ben glanced at Adam who lingered nearby. The boy shrugged his shoulders, as much at a loss as he was.

"And why is that, son?"

"Prayin' didn't do no good for Mama, and I'm figurin' it ain't gonna do no good for Little Joe neither. God's gonna do what He's gonna do." His young son's look was defiant. "Ain't that what you're always telling us?"

Silence reigned as Ben found himself at a loss for words. _God is sovereign_. The words had been drilled into him from the time he could remember. He remembered as well after Marie's death how he had come to rebel against his king.

Was _still_ rebelling against his king.

In the end, it was Adam who spoke into the silence.

"Hoss," the teenager said as he knelt in front of his brother, "maybe I can explain. You see, prayers are always answered. _Always._ It's just that, sometimes, the answer isn't the one we want. Or maybe it is, but we just can't see it at the moment."

Hoss' lip was thrust out. "How is Mama dyin' an answer I would have wanted?" he countered.

"I'm not saying it is. What I'm saying is..." Adam paused. His son turned and looked at him, and then his hazel eyes returned to his brother. "Pa knows all kinds of things we don't, right?" He waited, and when Hoss nodded he went on. "So if you ask Pa for something and he says 'no', you trust him that it's for your good. Don't you? Even if you _don't_ understand or agree?"

Hoss slowly nodded. "Like when Pa told me to let that little bear cub go even though it was hurtin', 'cause he knew its mama was around somewhere and I might get hurt?"

Adam smiled. "Exactly. You see, Hoss, God is a father too. He's my father and yours."

"And Little Joe's?"

" _And_ Little Joe's." Adam glanced at him again before going on. "And...even Pa's. God promises in His Word that all things work together for the good of those who love Him and keep His commandments. He _promises_ to listen when we pray, and you and I know God always keeps His promises. And like I said, He listens to _every_ prayer, Hoss. So, we just have to trust that what He decides – whether it is 'yes' or 'no' – that it's for the best."

Ben reached up to strike a tear away from his eye.

Out of the mouths of babes.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"Come on, boy. Get a move on it!"

Little Joe swallowed hard. He didn't want to 'get a move on it'. He didn't even want to _move_. He wanted to stay right where he was forever. Joe sucked in air and glanced down to his side and instantly regretted it as the world began to spin. Gripping the jagged rocks in front of him with white-knuckled terror, he whimpered, "But I don't want to go any higher. We're too high now! _Please_ don't make me."

At first he'd thought they were just going to go a little ways up the ridge, but every time he thought they were going to stop, the bad men would nudge him with the barrel of his pistol and tell him to keep climbing. They were twenty or thirty feet off the ground already and every time he forgot and looked down, he felt like he was gonna fly right off the side and crash to the rocks below.

"It's not that much farther, kid," the bad man growled, pushing him again. "I have a nice little nest up there, all ready for you. Once we reach it, you can rest."

Nest?

Like the eagles had?

Joe's jaw tightened as he looked up. The only place to stop was a ledge. It was a long way up, almost to the sky. He blinked back tears as the hot metal nudged his back again. If that bad man did that to him _one_ more time he was gonna do one thing or the other – cry or get really mad!

"No. I'm not goin' up any higher," he said, shaking his head and digging his fingers in deeper into the rock. "And you can't make me!"

There was a moment of silence. Then the man said, his voice still as the calm before a storm. "You know, boy, you might be right. But there's something I _can_ do. I can pick you up and toss you over the side of this here mountain _right_ now."

He should've kept his mouth shut. He knew it. But he was tired – _really_ tired – and sore and hungry and he'd just about had enough!

Joe flung a look over his shoulder at the man. "You go ahead and do that then!" he almost yelled. "Seems to me that whatever you took me for in the first place ain't so important if you can just up and kill me! And if that's so, why don't you just let me go home?!" He was kind of pleading there at the end. Dang it! Joe sniffed and set his jaw and glared at the man, hoping he hadn't noticed, finishing with, "You're pretty stupid if you think my Pa ain't gonna find us!"

The bad man was staring at him. He looked...amused.

"If you aren't the spittin' image of her," he said with a shake of his head, and then added sadly, "Too bad you're tainted."

That was one of Adam's ten dollar words, as Hoss liked to put it. The preacher used it sometimes when he was talking about men comin' out of what he called a 'den of iniquity'. Whatever that was, it wasn't good.

"I ain't tainted!" Joe snapped back, since he was pretty sure he wasn't.

Before he knew it, the bad man had hold of him. He pulled his hands off the rocks and twisted him around. Then he grabbed the collar of his shirt and lifted him up so he had to look into his face.

"You're as _tainted_ as they come. You've got bad blood in your veins. _Cartwright_ blood!" The man shook him hard. "You're what ties her here. She'll come looking for you and when she knows you're dead – and who did it – there will be nothing left to hold her here. She'll leave Ben Cartwright and come with me."

Joe swallowed hard. His heels were on the edge of the cliff. For the first time since the bad man had taken him, he thought he might really die. Unbidden, tears coursed down his cheeks. When he spoke, his words shook just like he was.

"I don't...know who you're...talking about."

"You...don't...know...who..." The bad man made a disgusted noise low in his throat and then pivoted and thrust him forward. "Don't you pretend you _don't_ know who!"

"But, I don't. Really!" Joe answered as he was forced to move. After a few steps, he turned back with a frown. "You don't mean my...mama, do you? 'Cause if you do, she's..."

Joe stopped. He wasn't entirely sure why. There was something – a voice in his head, maybe the touch of a hand on his cheek – something he couldn't explain. It told him that telling the bad man that his mama was dead was not a good idea.

In fact, it was a really _bad_ idea.

"She's what?" the bad man snarled.

Joe stuck his chin out. It felt funny to say it, but it was the truth – or it would have been if his mama hadn't fallen off that horse and died.

"She's...she won't have nothin' to do with you! My mama wouldn't never leave my Pa, no matter what you do!"

The bad man caught his shirt in his fingers again and drew him in close.

"She will, once she realizes that Ben Cartwright is the one who killed you."

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Adam caught hold of his coat with his hand and pulled the collar up tighter about his neck. Night was upon them. They had made camp, Hoss was already asleep and the air was growing chill. Earlier there had been a spit of moisture that promised either a cold rain or maybe gave a hint of snow. The teenager's hazel eyes narrowed as he capped the canteen and hooked it back on his saddle, thinking of his little brother out in this without a coat, shivering – maybe freezing to death.

When they found the man that took Little Joe, he was going to kill him.

Plain and simple.

Kill him.

How could anyone steal a five-year-old child from his own room to use him as some sort of bargaining chip? ' _Find me and we'll talk_.' Talk? About what? There was nothing _to_ talk about. There was only a demand.

 _Give my brother back!_

And why the Devil did Joe's kidnapper insist they bring Marie? If the man knew Marie, he would certainly know that – if alive – she would have been out for his blood! Adam kept telling himself that there had to be some kind of logic to the man's actions, but the more he thought about it, the more it seemed they were dealing with some sort of madman. That fact did not bode well for Little Joe. What would Gabriel Eagle do to Joe when he found out that they didn't 'bring Marie'?

That they _couldn't._

A hand on his shoulder startled him out of his reverie. Adam turned to find his father standing behind him. Pa looked haggard and nearly at the end of his tether. Over the last few hours he had been aware of an edginess; a growing tension in the older man.

Unfortunately, he was pretty sure he knew the reason.

"Pa, this is not your fault. If it's anyone's, it's mine."

Those dark eyes pinned him. "You are not to think that."

"Oh, but you _are?"_ he snapped. "I'm the one who was supposed to be watching Little Joe –"

"You're a child."

Adam blinked. "A child? Pa, I'm almost eighteen!"

"And I am almost _forty!"_ His father passed a hand over his eyes. "Adam, the man was working for me. I hired him! I should have –"

"What? Been able to read his mind? In God's name, Pa, why would you have ever suspected that one of the hands you hired would kidnap your son?"

"You watch your tongue, young man," his father warned.

Adam drew a breath and let it out – very slowly. "I'm sorry, Pa. I mean no disrespect to you _or_ to God. It's just... Well, you're making me mad."

"Mad?"

He paused. This was dangerous territory. "What good does it do Little Joe for you to wallow in self-pity?"

His father bristled. The night had grown cold enough, he was surprised not to see steam come out of his ears. "I am not wallowing in – "

"Yes, you _are_." Adam's voice softened as he repeated it. "Yes, you are, Pa. Please, tell me, what difference does it make when or how this man took Joe? He took him. We have to concentrate on _why_."

"But I don't know why!" The older man faltered. "I...if...if I knew _why_ , maybe I could figure out what to do to keep your brother safe. This has to do with your mother, Adam, but I am afraid, it has more to do with me."

"Pa, I think... Well, it seems to me that Gabe took Joe to force Marie to come to _him_. That seems to indicate they didn't part on friendly terms, otherwise he would have just come calling."

His father shook his head. "I don't think they parted on _any_ terms, Adam. I've been thinking hard about it. I am pretty sure I remember him. He was always hanging back, outside the circle of men who openly worshipped Marie. I doubt she even knew he existed."

Adam frowned. "Maybe that's the problem. Maybe he's trying to get her to notice him now."

"And yet, what kind of a madman would kidnap a woman's son to make her want to be with him? How could Eagle possibly think it would do anything other than make her hate him?" His father almost chuckled. "If your mother was alive and Little Joe had been taken, Heaven and Earth wouldn't have stood in her way. She would have found him and the man who took him and..."

He knew. He _knew_ what his father hesitated to say.

"She would have killed him."

After a moment, the older man nodded.

"Will you, Pa? Will _you_ kill him?"

His father's jaw was tight. He looked up. There were tears in his near-black eyes. "I hope it doesn't come to that, son. I hope, with the other men who are out looking for your brother, that we will be able to come upon Gabriel Eagle unawares and rescue Joseph without violence."

Adam waited a heartbeat. "You didn't answer my question."

His father turned to look into the desert. They had come to the edge of the barren lands where there was little other than dry gorse, predatory animals, and masses of uncaring red rock anchored in sand. They had spoken earlier, acknowledging the fact that they had to pray that Joe was still with his kidnapper. If the tiny boy had tried to escape...

If Joe took off on his own, there was little chance he would survive.

"I've killed before," Pa said at last. "And I will again if I have to. If it means your brother's life... Yes, I will kill Gabriel Eagle and do it with a clean conscience." The older man paused, and then added quietly, "But that's the least of my worries. Adam, son... It's my greatest fear that we will be too late."

It was his fear too, though now was not the time to admit it.

Moving to stand beside his father, Adam looked out onto the barren vista that confronted them, his eyes going to the tower of red rock that was slowly fading with the light – the one the Indians called ' _God's Stair'_ , and the Spanish, _Eagle's Promontory_ for the predatory birds that built their nests there. He remained silent a moment and then placed a hand on his father's shoulder.

"Do you feel her, Pa? I do."

He felt his father stiffen. "Your mother?"

Adam nodded. "Yes. I think she's watching out for Little Joe."

The older man made a strangled noise. He shook his head.

"I remember one night, Pa, when I was at the end of my rope. Everything had gone wrong and looked to go even _more_ wrong the next day. I was sitting outside the house on the porch table when suddenly I felt a hand on my shoulder. It was Marie...Ma. She'd come looking for me. She knew I was upset."

His father stirred and looked at him.

"She had that little Bible with her – the one she brought from New Orleans." He laughed, remembering the well-worn tome. "It was about the shabbiest thing I'd ever seen. She sat down in the chair beside me and for the longest time said nothing. Finally she opened her Bible, handed it to me, and pointed to a verse. Then, without a word – with just those eyes – she told me to read it out loud."

His father was facing him now. "What verse was it, son?"

"Isaiah 40:3." Adam closed his eyes and recited it from memory as he had done on the day of his step-mother's burial. "But those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint." His fingers tightened on his father's shoulder. "She wouldn't want you to lose hope, Pa. Please."

His father reached out and cupped his face with his hand. There were tears in the older man's eyes. "How can I, with a son like you to remind me? Thank you, Adam."

A moment later Pa walked away. After that, Adam stood there for some time, staring at the stars, thinking about his father and all he had endured. As he did, another verse from the Bible came to him.

His lips trembling, Adam opened them and spoke the words aloud, paraphrasing them a bit from what was written in Samuel.

"For this child I pray. Lord give me my petition which I ask.

"Keep my baby brother safe."

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Little Joe lay, tears streaking his cheeks, his breath coming in short, harsh gasps, curled into a tight ball in the middle of a giant nest of branches and bird feathers. He was shaking from head to foot. Gabe had ordered him to stop as they reached the ledge and when he hadn't done it fast enough, he'd caught him by the collar, picked him up, and swung him out over the edge. The bad man had held him there while his heart hammered in his chest and his feet dangled over nothing but the night, for so long he was sure he was going to drop him. He'd even shifted his fingers once or twice and let him slip down and inch or two and laughed when he cried.

Then, suddenly and without warning, he'd swung him back and flung him into the nest where he lay now.

Gabe was leaning over him, his lips curled up on the ends like he was smiling, only he wasn't. A while back they'd had a ranch hand that didn't like taking orders from Adam. The man said Adam was 'just a boy' and he didn't take no order from boys. He was a great _big_ man too – bigger than Pa. But that didn't stop Adam. Big brother went right on up to that great big man and told him that _he_ was in charge and he could get used to it or get his things and go. That great big man had smiled just like the Gabe was smiling now –

Right before he tried to break Adam in half.

Joe shuddered at the memory. He'd been scared Adam would die. But Pa had come out of the house at just the right time and that great big old bully was eatin' dust before he knew it.

The curly-headed boy licked his lips and swallowed over his fear. Pa was comin' for him too, he told himself. Pa would save him like he'd saved Adam. He knew he would.

He hoped he would.

He was afraid he wouldn't.

"You look scared, kid. Are you scared?" Gabe asked.

Joe's teeth set in his lip. He shook his head.

Unexpectedly, the bad man reached out and touched his hair, gently, just like Pa did when he was sick. "You're a lot like her, you know? Same eyes. Same fire in them. Seems a shame. I could almost..." Gabe drew his hand back abruptly, like he'd been burnt. "No... " He shook his head. "No. You're what ties her here and that cord's got to be cut."

The little boy frowned. He _really_ wanted to tell Gabe that hurting him wouldn't make his mama do anything, cause she _couldn't_ do anything since she was dead. But again, something stopped him. Somehow he knew – even though he was pretty sure the bad man meant to kill him – that the _only_ thing keepin' him alive right now was the fact that Gabe thought his mama was alive too.

"If you...hurt me...she'll hate you," he forced out between chattering teeth.

Gabe stared at him a moment longer. Then he stood up and looked at the sky. "She'll get over it."

Joe wrapped his arms around his body, but it didn't help. He was so cold. And mad. He was really mad.

"How come...how come you don't just kill me now then?" he demanded.

For a moment, his kidnapper said nothing. Then, Gabe turned to look at him. There was a funny light in his eyes. The only thing Joe could think of that he had seen like it before was when that rabid dog had come into the yard and tore right up to the chicken coop while he was gatherin' eggs. Pa'd been close by. He'd yelled for him to stay still while he went into the house to get his rifle. That left him eye to eye with that big old dog. It had a light in its eyes just like Gabe's.

Pa'd had to shoot it.

"It ain't time yet," his kidnapper said at last, as he turned away.

"He hasn't brought Marie."


	6. Chapter 5

FIVE

Ben Cartwright stirred and walked to the edge of their camp. The new day was breaking. The sun's fiery rays struck the towering mountain of rock that rose before him painting it a coppery red, even as it turned the sands that circled the high ridge into a river of molten gold. The sight was breath-taking; as sure a reminder of the majesty of God as anything he had seen. Beyond that tower lay the mountains, and beyond them another stretch of land, and then that land gave way to the mysterious sea he had traveled in his youth.

And somewhere out there, somewhere in those endless miles of land and water, was one little boy.

 _His_ little boy.

 _Are not two sparrows sold for a farthing? and one of them shall not fall on the ground without your Father._

Ben Cartwright closed his eyes. He drew in a breath and slowly released it. His arms ached for his son, but he had been reminded by Adam that Little Joe had _another_ Father who loved that boy even more fiercely than he did. A Heavenly Father who would hold his son safe until he could be found.

"Pa?"

The rancher opened his eyes. Adam and Hoss had awakened before him and gone looking for their brother's trail. Young as he was Inger's boy, with his affinity for the natural world, was already showing signs of being an astute tracker. The pair had found signs of a single horse's passage. The burden it carried was heavier than normal, though not _that_ heavy – just about right for an average size man carrying a slender five-year-old boy.

The trail led straight to _God's Stair._

They were waiting on him, his boys. He had a choice to make – proceed alone, go, and take the boys with him, or wait for Roy Coffee and the other men to catch up to them before leaving. The latter would be the wisest choice, even if its only worth was that he would have someone to leave Hoss and maybe Adam with. But deep down inside there was a voice that urged him on – one that insisted time was running out. He wasn't sure if the voice was his own or God's, or maybe even, God bless her, Marie's. He only knew that he had to listen to it.

That meant taking these two into danger.

As if reading his mind, Adam said, "We'll be fine, Pa. We need to find Little Joe and quickly. Who knows what that..." His eldest son stopped as if just remembering the _other_ little brother who stood beside him, wide-eyed and listening to every word. "...who knows what the kid's thinking? He has to be tired and hungry..."

"And scared," Hoss added quietly.

Ben touched his middle boy's face. "Your brother knows we're coming, Hoss. Little Joe knows we would move Heaven and Earth to find him."

Hoss turned and looked at the mountain of rock. "Adam thinks that bad man took Joe up there," he said, pointing.

Ben looked – and shuddered. "Adam?"

"Gabe is headed straight for it, Pa. You know that rock. There are no places to hide at its base, but plenty high up where you could find shelter – and have a good look-out on the land below."

Ben stepped past his son and looked again. The ridge was fearsome – intimidating even to the best of climbers. "But why? Why would he take your brother all the way...up...there..."

Adam looked as sick as he felt.

It seemed impossible that anyone would take the chance of making such a climb with such a small child in tow. And yet, the rancher knew it was all _too_ possible. His adventures in the world had, like a sword thrust, driven home the truth of the words Cervantes' Alonso Quixano or Don Quixote had spoken a century before. _'I've lived for over 40 years and I've seen life as it is. Pain. Misery. Cruelty beyond belief...'_ The world they occupied was a fallen one, peopled by fallen creatures whose only desire was to meet their own needs, no matter how spurious. People, like Gabriel Eagle, who would stop at nothing to have their way and who would _willingly_ endanger a child to get it.

And dispose of that child as unwanted refuse if they did not.

' _Bring Marie'._

His look was as grim as his words. "Saddle up, Adam. We're going to find your brother and bring him home. No matter what."

Adam met his gaze and gave him a quick nod. "Come on, Hoss," the teenager said as he took hold of his younger brother's arm. Before they reached their horses, his eldest turned back. "Pa? Do you want to leave the camp as it is?"

He nodded. When they found Joseph, they would need somewhere close to bring him where Paul Martin could look the boy over and make certain there was nothing life-threatening. There was no way of telling what shape Little Joe would be in when they found him. Even if – _if_ – Gabriel Eagle left the boy unharmed, there were a dozen other things to consider such as exposure and a lack of food and water, to say nothing of the boy's state of mind. Ben ran a hand over his chin, feeling several days stubble prick his fingers. The physician had pulled him aside shortly after his return to the Ponderosa. Paul had tried to be kind, but there was nothing that could take the sting out of the man's softly spoken words.

' _We're only beginning to understand the workings of the human mind, Ben. You'll have to be patient with the boy. Your...absence, following so closely upon his mother's sudden death, has left Little Joe with a deep-seated fear of being abandoned by those he loves, whether it be by choice or by death. He may test you – run away, even, to make you show your love by coming after him."_ Paul had gripped his arm to drive home his point.

' _Don't ever fail to do so.'_

As Adam and Hoss pulled up alongside him, Ben reached up to strike away a tear away before accepting Buck's reins from his eldest's hand. Once mounted, he moved forward with the two boys trailing behind him.

"I'm coming, son," the rancher promised as he rode toward the fist of red rock God had raised out of the desert sands. "Hear me, Little Joe. There is _nothing_ on this Earth that will stop me from finding you. I swear on your mother's memory that I will _never_ abandon you again.

"And I _will_ bring you home."

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Joe fought to lift his eyelids. They were _really_ heavy. Maybe they did have sand bags on them like Adam told him when he put him to bed. At least it felt like it. In fact, they were _so_ heavy that he might just go..back...to...sleep.

Except...

Something was tickling his nose. Joe wiggled it like a bunny and shifted, turning his face to the side, sure that a goose feather had poked out through the linen case that covered his pillow. Only it didn't do any good. He just ran into another feather.

And sneezed.

Hoss must have come in during the night. That was all he could figure. They must of had a pillow fight and he forgot about it somehow. The curly-headed boy frowned as he sniffed back snot and fought another sneeze. He didn't want his Pa to come in and Pa was _sure_ to come in if he heard him sneezin'. He'd come in for the sneezes and then he'd see the feathers and then he'd say 'Joseph' in that deep voice of his and shake his head and...

Little Joe's eyes popped open and he looked around. Yep, he was in trouble. There were feathers everywhere! Some of them were flying in the breeze, but most of them were scattered on the ground around him. He shifted again and went to sit up, but for some reason, he couldn't. Looking down, he saw that his hands were tied in front of him. The rope binding them ran on down to his ankles and then coiled around his boots like a big brown snake. When he saw a pair of tanned hands tying off the knot, it all came back to him – the friendly ranch hand at his window, Gabe promising to take him to Hoss, figuring out that the bad man had lied to him and then being brought...here.

He didn't want to, but Joe forced himself to look at the bad man's face. Gabe's eyes were masked; hidden in shadow except for a flash every now and then like the glint of sunlight on the barrel of a gun. As he watched, the man who took him reached to the side and then turned toward him with a filthy red bandana in his hand.

Joe started to squirm. "No! I don't want that in my mouth! No!"

Gabe gripped his arm. "Listen, kid. For your own good, keep still. _Real_ still."

Something in the bad man's voice caught his attention. Joe was breathing hard, but he managed to calm himself enough to ask, "Why?"

Gabe's lips curled with satisfaction, like a fat cat finishing off a fish. "Have you ever set a spring trap?"

Joe blinked. "Set...a strap?" he asked.

"Yeah. A spring trap. To catch a rabbit, or maybe a squirrel?"

Of course, he had. But why was the bad man asking?

Joe nodded.

Gabe tilted his head toward the cliff's edge. "You see that?"

Joe didn't want to, but he looked. There was a little sapling near the edge of the rocky shelf that was bent over like an old lady. He couldn't see the top of it because it was hidden by the trunk of a small tree that stuck straight up out of the rock. A thin brown rope, just about the same color as the ground, was tied to the sapling. He couldn't see where the rope came from, but he thought it ended somewhere under him. The other part of the rope was laying on the ground next to the nest he was in.

"Yeah, I see it," Joe said, showing a little defiance. "So what?"

"If you've set traps, kid, you know you have to have bait. Right?"

Little Joe's eyes went from the bad man to the bent over sapling and the rope tied to it, back to his bound hands and feet, and finally to the bandana Gabe held.

"No!" he shouted as he began to wiggle, fighting against the ropes, against his fear – against the awful thing that he knew was going to happen.

The bad man gripped his arms so hard it hurt.

"I told you to keep still, kid! You lie still and those ropes stay where they are. You fight – you try to get out of that nest – and the trap will spring and sling you right over the side!"

Joe went still – _very_ still. He'd tried to be brave. He really had. He wanted his Pa and his brothers – especially Adam to be proud of him. But he just couldn't do it anymore. Tears streaked down his filthy cheeks as he began to shake.

"I...want...my Pa," he said, each word punctuated by a sob.

The bad man snorted as he pulled the bandana through his teeth and tied it behind his head. He stared at him for several heartbeats and then leaned over and grabbed a blue and red plaid blanket from the ground. Wrapping it around him several times and pulling it up to his chin. Gabe bound his arms and legs tightly before rising and walking to the edge of the rocky shelf where he stood staring out at the desert sands.

Joe followed his gaze. He could just make out three shapes riding toward them.

"You know what they say, kid," the bad man said as he turned back to look at him. "Be careful what you wish for. You just might get it."

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"Do you suppose he's seen us?"

Adam looked at his brother. They rode side by side, trailing a few yards behind their father. _Eagles' Promontory_ loomed before them, a broad expanse of red-brown rock that grew wider and taller with each step they took. If, as he surmised, Gabriel Eagle _had_ made hid camp high up on the ridge, Joe's kidnapper had most certainly seen them and knew they were coming. The question was – just _what_ did he see? It would have been anyone's guess at a distance as to whether or not one of the approaching riders was a woman. The closer they came, the more apparent it would become that they had not done as requested. That they had not brought Marie.

What would that mean for Little Joe?

"I imagine he has," Adam said, answering Hoss at last. "It would be kind of hard for him not to with us riding out in the open like this."

"So Pa _wants_ him to see us?"

Adam's lips drew into a knife-thin line. He nodded, but said nothing.

' _There's no point in hiding, son,'_ his father had told him. ' _The only way to get your brother back is to confront this man. I want Eagle to know I'm coming.'_

The teenager gnawed at his lip as he corrected his horse, avoiding a rock buried deep in the sand. He had to believe that all was not lost. Gabe couldn't be certain Marie wasn't with them. After all, she was a woman and they might have left her in the camp for her own protection. In spite of everything, that thought made Adam chuckle. If Joe's kidnapper really _had_ known his step-mother, then he would have been aware that the only way Marie would have stayed in camp with her son in danger was if they had hog-tied her and added a ball and chain.

"Pa ain't afraid of him, is he?" Hoss asked, his voice ringing with pride. "He ain't afraid of Gabe."

"No, he's not afraid of him," Adam replied.

But Pa is afraid of what he'll do – or what he's already done, he thought.

"You know what I'm gonna do, Adam? I'm ggonna rush right up to Little Joe when we find him and give him the biggest ol' bear hug he's ever had!" Hoss proclaimed. "Little brother ain't gonna be able to breathe, I'm gonna squeeze him so tight!"

Adam half-turned toward his middle brother and favored him with an affectionate smile. "I don' know," he said, "I think you're going to have to move faster than Pa to do that, and I don't know if you're fast enough."

Hoss answered as only a young child completely unaware of the immensity of the situation could. "Shucks, Adam, Pa's old. I could beat him in a race with one leg tied to the other!"

It felt good to laugh out loud, even if he felt guilty for it. The smile on his lips died a quick death though as his father abruptly reined in his horse. Adam reached over and caught his brother's reins and brought Hoss' horse to a quick halt along with his own.

There was a man walking toward them. An ordinary looking man wearing a brown coat and pants. He moved casually, as if he was taking a Sunday afternoon stroll on a city street.

It was Gabriel Eagle.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Ben drew in a sharp breath as he dismounted. He clung to the saddle horn for a moment, steadying himself. It was all he could do to keep from rushing Eagle and taking him by the throat and shaking him until he told him where his child was. He had to remind himself that Little Joe's kidnapper was unsettled. He was a madman with a mind that turned toward games. His young son could be anywhere. Little Joe could be here, or he could be twenty miles away. Every word the man said could be a clue and so he had to let him speak his piece. And then he had to explain.

He had to explain why he didn't bring Marie.

He'd considered lying. He'd considered telling Eagle that Marie was at the Ponderosa and that the only way he would see he was if _he_ went to her. But Gabe knew Marie. He was well aware of her fiery, independent nature. Joseph's kidnapper would know that there was nothing on Earth – himself included – that could have stopped her from coming if her child was threatened to plead, to offer herself...

To offer her life.

Ben glanced back at his sons. Adam had started to dismount. He shook his head and the boy halted. With his eyes, he indicated Hoss. No words were spoken, but Adam heard them nonetheless. _Your younger brother is your responsibility._

Joseph is _mine._

Head erect, spine stiff, Ben walked straight across the sand until he stood directly before the man who had taken his son. He still found it hard to believe. He'd hired this man and then simply forgotten him. If someone had asked him to, he couldn't have even described him. Gabriel Eagle was just one of a dozen new ranch hands. From this time forward he would never make the same mistake.

He could only pray that Joseph didn't pay for his blunder with his life.

"Where is my son?" he demanded.

Eagle didn't answer. He looked past him, noting Adam and Hoss – and no one else.

"Where's Marie?" he countered.

Ben pursed his lips and considered – as he had a thousand times before – what reply he should give. In the end, there was only one possible answer.

"My wife is dead."

Gabriel Eagle's dull brown eyes fixed him. "You're lying," he said.

" _Why_ would I lie? You have my son! Do you think I would do _anything_ to jeopardize Joseph's life?"

"To keep her? Yes." The vile man sneered. "You can always have another son, but there's only one Marie."

Ben's fingers formed into fists. He was a law-abiding man, but if Joseph had been safe in his hands right now, he would have beaten the man to a pulp just to wipe that look off of his face.

"It's obvious you have never had a child," he countered sharply.

"Should have been mine," Little Joe's kidnapper said.

Ben blinked. "What?"

"The boy. He should have been mine." Something entered Gabriel Eagle's eyes then – something fierce and frightening. "Just like Marie should have been mine. Like she _will_ be mine." He raised a hand and jabbed the air with a finger, punctuating every word. "You go back and get her or you won't ever see that brat of yours again, Cartwright!"

"I _can't_ get her!" Ben shouted, losing his patience. "Marie is dead! She died in a fall from her horse over six months ago!"

"You're lying!"

" _Why_ would I lie? For God's sake, Gabriel, you have my son!" The rancher drew a breath, seeking to calm himself, knowing he had to remain the anchor of reason in this sea of madness. "Tell me where he is. Let me have Joseph and you can ride away. I promise I won't send the law after you."

The man in brown had grown very still. He was standing with his head down, staring at the ground. When he looked up, Eagle's dull brown eyes sparked with tears.

"Tell me you're lying," he whispered.

Ben closed his eyes for a moment and willed himself to set aside the fact that this man had taken his son. He needed to be empathetic, to convince this madman that he understood; that they were, God help him, kindred spirits.

"Gabriel, I wish I could. I would give anything if it was a lie, but it's not. Marie died...in my arms. She's gone." He was pleading, but he didn't care. "Take me to Joseph. Once I know the boy is safe, we'll go together back to Virginia City. If you don't believe me, you can ask anyone there. They'll tell you. They'll –"

"I've _been_ to town. No one ever said anything!"

"Did you ask?" As he spoke Ben's gaze went past the man, sweeping the barren landscape, looking for a sign. Where was Little Joe? Where had this monster hidden him? "It's been half a year. No one is going to bring it up, not unless you ask. Why would they?"

The color had drained from Eagle's face. His shoulders slumped forward and he was breathing hard. It was as if the truth was leeching the life out of the man.

"Marie..," he breathed, his voice robbed of strength. "She's...really dead?"

Ben nodded. "I'm sorry. Yes."

"How? How...did you say?"

He didn't want to say it again – to _see_ it happen again within his mind's eye – but he had to keep the man talking. He _had_ to get him to tell him where Joseph was.

"She came into the yard too fast. Her horse stumbled and she fell. If you... You knew her. You know she could be reckless."

"Pa?"

Adam's voice was soft. Ben looked over his shoulder and saw his son incline his head. In the distance there was a cloud of dust. Someone was coming. Most likely Roy and the other men.

He had no idea what Gabriel Eagle would do once he realized it.

"Gabriel. Gabe. You and I – we have our love of Marie in common. Little Joe – Joseph is all that is left of her. She would want you to make certain he was safe."

Eagle's head came up. "He's _your_ son."

" _And_ hers. Don't forget that. You've been with Joseph. You know how like Marie he is."

The man in brown snickered. Then he laughed out loud. The sound of it sent chills down Ben's spine. "You know what, Cartwright? I was gonna have _you_ do it."

Ben was at a loss. "Do what?"

Eagle sneered. "Kill the boy."

"Kill...? What do you mean?" Ben had to will himself to remain in place. He so wanted to close his fingers around the man's neck! "You were going to have _me_ kill Joseph? I would never do such a thing!"

Gabriel was staring off into the distance. "I got it rigged," he said. "Everything is in place. I was gonna wait here with Marie and then when you found the boy and it happened, I was going to take her away. She'd need comforting, you know, and I'd be here." His head snapped around like a snake's. The darkness had overtaken his eyes. "She'd blame you for the boy's death and she'd hate you, Cartwright. Like _I_ hate you. God damn it, Cartwright! I hate you!"

Three things happened between one heartbeat and the next; so quickly there was no time to react. Gabriel Eagle pulled a gun from inside his brown coat and pointed it straight at him. He heard Adam shout. And a gun went off.

It wasn't Eagle's.

Even as Adam slid from his horse's back and ran toward him, Ben felt the thunder of hooves beneath his boots. Roy Coffee was reining in his mount. The lawman's mouth was open. He was shouting... Shouting...

Something.

He couldn't hear it. In fact, he couldn't hear anything. Everything after that second heartbeat had zeroed in on the inconsequential madman in brown who spun and fell at his feet; the nonentity to whom no one had paid attention, who now had his _exclusive_ attention. Everything came down to the ordinary, extraordinary Gabriel Eagle who lay on the sand at the heart of a rapidly expanding circle of blood.

Gabriel Eagle, the only man on the face of the Earth who knew where his five-year-old son was.

Adam's touch released Ben from a paralysis of terror. Dropping to his knees beside the dying man, he took hold of the lapels of Eagle's jacket and lifted his body from the sand.

"Where is he?" he demanded. "Where is my son? _Where is Little Joe?"_

Gabriel Eagle looked blank for a moment. Then, even as the blood gurgled from between his lips, he managed a smirk.

"Ask Marie."


	7. Chapter 6

SIX

Ben Cartwright was a strong man, but any man could be broken. A full day had passed since that no-good-for-nothin' Gabriel Eagle had died and Little Joe was still missin'.

Roy Coffee stared over the rim of his half-empty coffee cup at the rancher where he sat on the far side of the fire, his graying head in his hands. Adam was with him, touching his pa's shoulder, saying things he couldn't hear but knew right enough. Ben had said them earlier to that other boy of his, the big one with the soft heart. 'Bout suppertime that other boy, well, he lost all hope and started bawlin' like a baby. They'd all walked away so as not to shame him and left his pa and brother to tend to him. Hoss was sleepin' now. He'd done wore himself out with cryin'.

His pa weren't far behind.

Roy shook his head as he shifted back against the boulder he was leaning against. It pained him to think that what that varmint had said to Ben – telling him to 'ask Marie' where their son was – maybe meant the boy was already dead. Still, truth to tell, if Little Joe _was_ alive and he'd been left all on his lonesome somewhere out here in the desert for nigh onto two days... Well, tied up or on his feet, the boy didn't stand much of a chance. The odds were if he didn't die of thirst or from the sun, some animal would get him or, worse, savages.

Anyway you looked at it, it looked like Ben was set to lose both Marie and her boy and he just wasn't sure his friend could survive it.

A sound at his side made him look up. Ben's oldest, Adam, was standing beside him. The boy looked tired. No, more than tired, plumb wore out.

"Is there any coffee left?" he asked.

"Sure thing, son. You sit yourself down and I'll pour it."

"You don't have to do that."

Roy eyed him. "No, I don't. I _want_ to."

Adam stared at him a moment in that way he had, like it took a thousand equations to make one move. Then he nodded.

"Thanks," he said as he folded his long body up and sat on the ground.

Roy poured the coffee and handed it to him. "How's your pa?"

Adam blew on the hot liquid and then took a sip. He closed his eye as it trailed down his throat, warming him against the desert chill of night. "About like you would imagine," he replied, his tone short.

They sat in silence for a minute or two after that. The men were exhausted and to a man had settled in early. They'd spent most of the night before and the entire day today combin' just about every square inch of sand and scrub near that there pile of rocks the Indians thought God used as a stair – even goin' most the way up it – and found nothin'.

He, Adam, and Ben were the only ones awake.

Roy took another sip, then he said, "I cain't say how sorry I am I had to shoot Eagle."

Adam looked directly at him. "Thank you, Roy," he said. At his sour look added, "I mean it. It's not your fault that Gabe died without telling Pa where Joe is. And if you hadn't shot him, well, Pa..."

Roy nodded. Ben would have been dead. There was no way Eagle could've missed at that range.

Again, silence descended as they continued to sip their coffee. A few minutes into it, Ben got up and moved off into the darkness. Roy shook his head as he watched him go.

"It just ain't right," he sighed.

Adam had fallen to staring off into the distance again. He stirred and met his gaze. "What isn't right?"

"A man like your pa. I mean, I ain't met better. It just ain't right him losin three wives and now..." He stopped just short of sayin' what they were all afraid to say, 'and now losin' Little Joe too'. "Makes you wonder what the man upstairs is thinkin'."

Ben's oldest shifted uncomfortably. He sat up and leaned forward. After placing his cup on the ground, Adam locked his hands together and dropped them between his knees.

"Do you ever doubt, Mr. Coffee? I mean, you see the worst of it, working with William Olin like you do, trying to bring some order to the chaos of Eagle Station."

"Do I doubt God 'cause there's bad in the world?" He shook his head as he too put his cup down and leaned back. "No, son. I don't. The Good Book tells us this here world is broken and we can't expect much but sufferin' while we're in it. Now, I ain't excusin' them, but most men who go bad have a reason. Most often they done had bad done to them too – a father who expected too much of them, a ma who ran away and left them – maybe they was burned out by the Indians and lost everythin'."

"Men have those things happen all the time and it doesn't turn them into kidnappers and murderers," Adam countered quickly.

The boy was soundin' mighty bitter. Still, he couldn't blame him.

"Now, son, I said I wasn't excusin' them. Just tryin' to understand them." He paused. "S'posin' on your way out west, your pa had died. Say you'd been left all alone to fend for yourself – maybe even had to take care of that little brother of yours – and 'cause of that you fell in with the wrong types."

"So you're saying that Gabriel Eagle had something in his background that explains what he did?" Adam snapped. "Something that explains a grown man taking a five-year-old boy and _killing_ him?"

There it was. He knew he'd have to rile him to get it out.

Adam paled. He sank back, deflated. A moment later he lifted a trembling hand and passed it through his hair.

"I don't think Pa can survive this," he said.

He wasn't sure Ben could either, but he was sure as shootin' gonna make sure Adam did. He knew Little Joe had been taken on his watch and the boy blamed himself.

"Son, no matter what your pa does – or what happens to your brother – you gotta let it go or _you_ ain't gonna survive it."

Adam didn't look up. "I can't."

"You gotta, boy. Let's say the worst is true. Let's say that little brother of yours don't never come home and your pa breaks." The teenager had gone rigid as he spoke; his body shouting out the rage he denied. "You got another brother. Who's gonna look out for Hoss?"

Adam frowned. He cleared his throat, started to speak, stopped, and then finally said, his voice so quiet the words were almost lost on the desert wind. "I'm not sure I'm...strong enough."

Roy's heart went out to him. He rose and moved to the other side of the fire to sit beside Adam. Ben's oldest boy wasn't one for touchin' – not like that young one of his – but this was one time he felt the boy needed it. Wrapping his arm around Adam's shoulders, he began to talk.

"No, you ain't, son. None of us are. On our lonesome we'd get lost, and when a man gets lost, he forgets what's important. He forgets about the people he loves, kind of like your pa did right after your ma died." Roy felt Adam flinch. He went on. "And when a man gets to thinkin' only about himself and what he don't have, well, he turns into the kind of man Gabriel Eagle was – a man willin' to do whatever it takes to get what he wants."

Adam was shaking his head. "And it's all been for nothing. Joe..." He choked and fought back tears. "All for a woman who died not even remembering his name."

Roy squeezed his shoulder. "Now you listen here, Adam. Nothin's for nothin'. We ain't privileged to know most times what it's for. We just gotta trust. Like I said, you can't do it alone."

"I know the words, Roy. I've said them myself. In fact, I said them just a short time ago to Hoss. But that was before..." Adam paused. "If you're talking about God, then you're talking about a God who let a little boy be kidnapped and who hasn't...led us to him. Who maybe let Joe be...murdered." He struck the air with his hand. "I'm just not sure anymore that that's a God I want to believe in."

"How many children did you see die on the trail, Adam? On your way out here?"

The boy scowled. "Plenty."

"Did you doubt God then?"

"No, but I was a child. I'm not a child anymore, Mr. Coffee."

"No, you ain't. So for starters, why don't you call me 'Roy'."

Adam looked startled, but nodded. "Roy."

"Do you think God's afraid of your questions?"

"I..." Adam half-smiled. "No. Though my father would tell me it was irreligious to ask them."

"Poppycock! Maybe that's why your pa near broke when your ma died. Look at Job. He weren't too happy with the Almighty and he weren't afraid to let Him know it!"

That brought a chuckle. "No. No, he wasn't." Adam fell silent for a moment and then said, "Thanks, Roy. Thanks for reminding me and thanks...for being a friend."

The older man lifted his arm and stood up. "I don't know if we're gonna find that brother of yours alive or not, Adam, but I do know that there's a reason this happened. Now should worst come to worst, you can bury yourself along with Little Joe, or you can choose to live and make both his life _and_ yours count for somethin'."

Adam thought a moment longer. Then he nodded. Then the boy turned and looked into the darkness, his eyes following the path his pa had taken minutes before.

"Yeah, I know," the older man sighed. "I'm worried about him too."

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

It had been like sitting on a hill of red ants. He had to be on the move – had to be doing _something_ – and so, here he was, wearing a rut in the sand, driving bracken and brush and small animals before him in his mad pacing. He was missing something. He knew it.

Some... _thing_.

Ben kept going over everything that had happened since the day he had returned to find Adam inconsolable and Little Joe missing, searching for a clue to unlock the diseased mind of Gabriel Eagle. It was a dark and dangerous place to traverse, but he did so seeking to understand a man who would willingly endanger the life of a small boy to impress a woman who wasn't even aware of his existence. Starting in New Orleans, he went over every move the man had made, stumbling when he came to Eagle's hiring on at the Ponderosa. The thought of that vile man watching his small son while Joseph went about his normal life – helping Hop Sing in the garden, trailing after his older brother, laughing and playing with Hoss – all the while waiting and calculating the best time to snatch him, sent chills down his spine.

As did the thought that he might never hear that laugh again.

Ben stopped to run his hands over his face. As he did, his gaze fell upon the high ridge of rock where the eagles made their nests – the near perpendicular promontory of rock that shot straight up to Heaven. Adam had been _so_ sure Gabriel Eagle had made his own 'nest' there as it would have offered him a clear view of the land and anyone's approach. And yet, there had been nothing. One of the men who had come with Roy had climbed it. He'd returned saying he'd seen no sign of human habitation.

Of course, he had no way of knowing how high the man had gone.

Still, there was nothing to indicate that madman had taken his son up there. Closing his eyes, Ben called to mind for the hundredth time the last words Gabriel had spoken – not his curses, but his _words_ concerning Little Joe.

 _I got it rigged. Everything is in place. I was gonna wait here with Marie and then when you found the boy and it happened, I was going to take her away._

When _you_ found the boy...

Ben started, and then he began to tremble. Gabriel Eagle had _wanted_ him to find Joseph. He was going to ' _wait right here'_ so he could see it. That meant he hadn't taken the boy so far away it would be impossible to find him. Little Joe _had_ to be close by.

 _I got it rigged. Everything is in place._

The frightened father's eyes returned to the mountainous ridge of rock before him. _Yes_ , one of the men with Roy had checked it and found nothing.

But that man wasn't Joseph's father.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Something roused him from sleep. Little Joe blinked several times and slowly opened his eyes. Then he smiled. The stars were shining in the sky and the moon was high and his Mama was there like she said she'd always be.

Joe lay as quiet as he could, so she wouldn't know he was awake and he could look at her. His mama was _so_ pretty. In fact, she was the prettiest mama there _ever_ was. Pa said her hair was spun gold. It looked like it with the moonlight shining on it. The stars had settled around her neck and they were shining too, like jewels. Mama always wore jewels. In the morning, after she got dressed, she would lift her golden hair and Pa would fasten the clasp and then kiss her neck just above his fingers.

He loved his mama so much.

If she was here, he was safe. He could go back to sleep.

He really wanted to sleep 'cause he felt kind of funny. Kind of numb and cold. Really cold. He didn't know why he'd be cold unless Hop Sing let the fire go out in his room and since Mama was sitting here beside him, he was sure that hadn't happened. Mama would have been yellin' in French at Hop Sing and he would have been yellin' back in Chinese. In fact, he was so cold it was getting really hard to move. Just about as hard as it was to stay awake.

As hard as it was to hang on until his pa found him.

Joe looked at his mama again. She was just sitting there, not makin' a sound. Just...waiting. He frowned as he wondered what she was waitin' for. Maybe for him to get up and go with her. Joe drew a breath and let it out in a long sigh. Pa'd be awful made if he went with mama instead of waiting for him. And sad.

Real sad.

But it was...well, he was...so tired and so hungry and so cold...

 _Mon petit, you must stay awake. You must hold on._

Joe licked his lips. He didn't like to argue with his mama, but he didn't think he could do what she asked.

"Can't..."

 _You must, mon petit. Your papa is coming._

Joe stared at the vision before him and then moaned and turned his face into the rough woolen blanket that covered him. She wasn't real. Mama _couldn't_ be real. He knew it even if he didn't want to believe it. His mama was dead. He'd tried to tell the bad man that, but he wouldn't listen. The bad man left him all alone to go talk to mama and when he found out he couldn't, he'd go away and then no one would find him. _Ever._ He was gonna go to sleep and die and –

Something soft touched his cheek.

The curly-headed boy froze. He shuddered and then rolled over. If his mama _was_ here and he could feel her hand, then that had to mean that he was already –

The face that looked at him wasn't his mama.

It wasn't even human.

Perched on the side of the great big nest of branches and feathers Gabriel Eagle had left him in was a _real_ eagle! Joe didn't move. His pa had taught him that mama eagles were like just like little boy's mamas. They were real nice unless they thought you might do something to hurt their young, and even though the nest was empty except for him, well, she might be mad that he was in it.

The little boy swallowed over the lump in his throat and managed to choke out, 'I'm sorry, ma'am..."

That big old mama eagle cocked her head to one side and then reached out with her claws and caught hold of the blanket where it lay next to his head. He wondered what she was doing and was surprised when she kept workin' at it until she had hold of a piece of the faded blue and red fabric. Her eyes never left him as she jerked back, tearing it free – along with a small strand of his hair. It hurt, but he was so cold and so tired and so lost that he really didn't care. Tears formed in his eyes and fell and then his eyes closed.

And he knew no more.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

His strength was fading. Ben was more than half-way up the side of the ridge and _still_ there was no sign that anything other than mountain cats and goats had passed this way. Maybe he was crazy. There were other easier places that madman could have concealed Joseph – desert caves, dry gullies, even within a rampant patch of tall grasses. The boy was so small it would be easy to overlook him. Maybe he should go back down, now, before he couldn't. If Adam and Hoss knew what he was doing, they would be half-crazed. Maybe _he_ was half-crazed.

Ben snorted. Or _all_ crazed.

Anchoring himself with a knee hooked around a triangular rock, the rancher stopped to pass a hand before his eyes. Dear God, he was tired! It would be so easy to make a mistake – one that could lead to him plummeting to his death and leaving his remaining two sons orphans.

 _Remaining_ sons.

He didn't know Joseph was dead.

He feared Joseph was dead.

He feared what he would find when he reached the end of this stair leading up to Heaven.

Was his son already there?

Ben turned his face upward. There were, perhaps, a hundred steps left to reach the summit. He wasn't afraid of heights, but there was something about being up this high, in the dark, without a rope or support – something unworldly – as if all a man had to do was reach out a hand and he could touch the face of the Almighty.

Or take the hand of the woman he loved.

Ben clung onto the triangular rock as he shifted and propped his back against the rocky wall. Once safely anchored, he closed his eyes. The words he spoke were soft and desperate.

"Help me, Marie. Show me where our son is."

A feather light touch on Ben's hand made him jump. He opened his eyes and looked down. A piece of cloth lay on the rocks near his hand. In the waning light he couldn't tell, but he thought it might be red and maybe blue. He picked it up and was surprised to find that it was a scrap of fabric from a well-worn plaid blanket.

In the middle of the scrap was a strand of dark brown hair, coiled in a perfect circle.

Ben's heart skipped a beat.

A breeze rose just then, brushing his cheek and causing him to look up. Ten feet above him an eagle hovered. It dipped its wing toward him and then disappeared into a recess in the rock.

"Thank you," he breathed to God, to Marie; to the blessed creature who had brought him hope.

And then he began to climb.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

It didn't take long. A few minutes later, panting and out of breath, the older man pulled himself onto a rocky shelf, which was approximately twelve feet long and about half as wide. The moon had broken free of a bank of clouds and it provided a pale light by which he could see. The eagle was there, perched on the edge of her nest, watching him. The nest was large. Four, maybe even five feet in diameter. It was pitched at the back of the shelf, near the edge. To him its position seemed precarious, but to her it promised protection for her fledglings when she was away. Ben stood and waited for his eyes to adjust to the meager light. For a moment he could see nothing and then, there, at the heart of the nest, he spotted something. Something wrapped in plaid cloth.

Something that didn't belong.

Relief choked him even as fear all but unmanned him. It took a second, but he stumbled forward toward the nest and the precious thing it held.

Before he could reach it, the eagle spread its wings wide. With a shrill cry, it left the nest and came to rest on the rocky ground before it. For a moment the creature remained still and then it bent its head and began to peck at something on the ground. For a moment he was confused. Then he saw what it was.

A rope.

A rope tied to a branch at the bottom of the nest.

A rope that led to a small bent-over sapling, held in place by another notched branch.

 _I got it rigged_ , Gabriel had said.

Ben's legs went to jelly.

Good Lord! If he had rushed in...

Carefully, lest he trigger the snare by accident, Ben made his way to the edge of the cliff and the bent-over sapling. He took hold of both parts of the trap and separated them, releasing the tension.

"There now," he said to the mama eagle, his voice shaking. "Your babies, when they come this spring, will be safe.

"As I pray mine is."

The eagle regarded him. For a moment, something in its eyes struck a familiar chord. For a second, he could almost believe...

Then it was gone and the eagle took flight.

For several heartbeats Ben stood, staring at the small, still form at the heart of the feather-lined nest. Images of the boy's mother's lifeless body laying on the ground flashed before his eyes, freezing him to the spot.

Then Heaven took pity.

Joseph moved.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

It was only as the new day's light dawned that Adam realized his father had never returned to camp. In spite of himself, he had fallen asleep waiting. He'd settled back against his saddle, intending to keep one eye open for his wandering parent and the other for any sign that Hoss was awake, and drifted off. John Devlin had roused him a short time before and told him the light was rising and they would be resuming the search as soon as they had a bite to eat. There was defeat in John's voice. It was clear the older man didn't think they would find anything. It was also clear that John was just about as devastated as they were.

Sadly, the reality had hit them all overnight that most likely Little Joe was dead. He'd been missing for nearly four days and his kidnapper – the only man who knew where he was – was dead.

Adam closed his eyes, allowing that to soak in.

Little Joe. Dead.

Dead, as in, never coming back.

As in, never driving him to distraction again with his endless chatter. Never at his heels again, peppering him with questions. He'd never get another practical joke pulled on him or get to play that game of cowboys and Indians where the cowboys won.

Never.

Dead was...well, dead.

Unexpectedly, the teenager felt a tug on his shirt tail. It showed how distracted he was that it was hanging out over his trousers. He looked around and down – slightly – into the face of his eleven-year-old brother who, for the last twenty-four hours, had done little but cry.

Hoss was smiling. He was also pointing.

"Adam, it's Pa! Pa's comin' – and he's got Little Joe!"

Pa's..coming?

And he has...?

It hit him, like a bullet passing clean through. Not dead. Alive.

Little Joe was _alive!_

Adam grinned back. Stupidly.

Hoss was pulling at his hand, urging him to rise. "Come on, Adam! Take a look for yourself!"

He did and was immediately on his guard. Pa was coming all right, but he wasn't smiling. Joe wasn't sittin up that mop of hair flying as he looked everywhere at once; his arms wrapped so tightly around Pa's neck that you feared the man might choke either.

In fact, Little Joe wasn't moving at all

By the time Adam found his feet, his father had entered the camp. A crowd quickly formed around him. Roy. John Devlin. And pushing to the front, Doctor Martin. The teenager watched, his heart in his throat, as Paul reached for Joe, pulling back the tattered blanket that all but covered him. He held his breath, waiting for the two words he _needed_ to hear.

They got three.

"He's alive. Just."

After that, everything was a blur. Paul Martin swept Pa and Little Joe away so he could tend him. John Devlin went flying back to the Ponderosa to let Hop Sing know what had happened, while Roy and his men headed for Eagle Station with Gabriel Eagle's dead body tethered to one of the extra horses. The neighbors who had joined in the search made certain there was nothing more they could do, and then one by one they drifted off, returning to their homes to lock their windows a little tighter, question the men working for them a little closer, and hug their wives and children.

And the three of them? Once Paul said it was all right, they began the long, slow ride home. After letting Hoss sit with their little brother for a bit, to reassure him that Joe indeed _was_ alive, Pa scooped the tiny boy up and headed for his horse. Though it was all he could do to keep his own saddle, their father insisted on carrying Little Joe all the way home. The entire time, Joe never moved or made a sound.

The crisis wasn't over.

Not by a long shot.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Ben reached out a trembling hand to touch the curly-headed boy who lay so still in his bed. Paul Martin had come back to the ranch with them but left a short time before to attend to other patients. He'd had to admit there was little he could do. Time was the only remedy he had to offer, along with a prescription for lots of love and a fair shake of patience. Physically, Joseph was suffering from exposure and a lack of food and water. Abrasions, cuts, and scrapes gave mute testimony to the ordeal he had endured. Paul said these would heal quickly, considering the boy was young and healthy otherwise.

The wounds he had suffered emotionally were another matter.

The rancher leaned back and ran a hand over his stubbled chin. He could only begin to imagine what the boy had gone through – and he shuddered at the places his imagination took him. His young son, barely more than a baby, held for days by a madman. What had that Gabriel Eagle said to him? Had he let the boy in on his plans?

Had Joseph lived in fear of his life all those hours?

Ben's eyes returned to his son. The boy was sleeping peacefully now. That had not been the case earlier. Before returning to consciousness, his son had whimpered and moaned, thrashing from side to side while tears ran down his cheeks. He'd sat and cradled him until he had quieted. Each thing a man experienced – no matter how young – left its mark. Little Joe was so young and yet he had suffered so much – the loss of his mother, his own abandonment of the child after his wife's death.

And now, what happened on Eagles Nest.

Yes, that was what he had begun to call it. God had answered his prayers, preserving his child and keeping him safe. As he sat there in that nest, holding Little Joe, waiting for enough light to descend the perpendicular slope, a verse from Deuteronomy had come to him.

' _Like an eagle that stirs up its nest, that hovers over its young, He spread His wings and caught them.'_

If not for that mother eagle looking out for _his_ chick, he would have tripped the snare set by Gabriel Eagle and sent his son over the edge to his death.

 _I got it rigged,_ Eagle had said.

No. No, he hadn't.

It was _God_ who had it rigged.

Ben saw the small form stir under the covers. Joe had awakened before, but been far from lucid. This time when those deep green eyes looked at him there was recognition in their depths.

"Welcome back, son," he said softly as he shifted to sit beside Joe on the bed.

The boy's eyes closed and then opened again. His pink lips curled up in a lazy smile.

"Hey, Pa."

"Hey, yourself, lazy bones. It's about time you woke up."

It had been two days. Two very _long_ days.

Joe's small fingers found his, searching and then latching on. He was silent a moment. Then, with a frown, he said, "I had a bad dream."

Ben closed his larger ones over them. "Oh? Care to tell your papa about it?"

His son's small face puckered. "Can't. Don't remember."

"You don't..." Ben paused. "Joseph, what's the last thing you _do_ remember?"

The boy curled up on his side. His curly head ducked beneath the covers. Just before it did, he saw tears glint in those eyes.

"You'll be mad."

Ben pulled the cover back and ran his fingers through the thick curls. "No, I won't. I promise."

It took a second, but Little Joe rolled over and looked at him. "I...was bad for Adam. I...threw things 'cause I was mad. He sent me to my room. I... I wanted to see Hoss to make sure he was okay, so I...I..."

Ben held his breath.

"Yes? You...?"

The boy thought a moment longer. His head shook. "I...don't remember."

Could they _be_ so blessed?

When he failed to speak, tears welled in his son's eyes. "Is Hoss okay? He was real sick. I – "

"Hoss is fine, Joseph."

"Fine...as...frog...hair!" a cheerful voice proclaimed. Ben turned to find his other sons standing in the doorway, watching them. There was a tray with a steaming cup of something on it as well as a glass of milk and some toast in Adam's hands.

God bless Hop Sing. Always prepared and _always_ expecting the best outcome.

The rancher watched joy break across his youngest's face at the sight of his brothers. Little Joe struggled to sit up, seemed puzzled that it was difficult, and then leaned back on the pillows and spread his arms wide. As Hoss jumped on the bed – making it groan just a bit – Adam came alongside them. He put the tray on the bedside table, picked up the steaming cup, and held it out to him.

"Hop Sing sent this for you."

The scent of the freshly made coffee made his mouth water.

"Thank you, son," he said as he accepted it.

Adam remained silent a minute, watching Hoss and Little Joe, then he asked – quietly, "How's Joe doing?"

Ben rolled the coffee around his mouth and then swallowed. He savored its warmth and flavor for a moment and then rose and hooked his finger to draw Adam over to the door.

Looking back at Joseph, he replied, "Your brother doesn't remember anything."

His son blinked. "Nothing? You mean, Joe doesn't remember _any_ of it?"

He shook his head. "The last thing he remembers is that you were mad with him."

Adam frowned, apparently troubled that his brother's last memory of him would have been a bad one.

"The little scamp was worried about Hoss – and you," his son said in explanation. "Joe decided that being underfoot was the best way to get my attention. I had a lot to do. I got..angry and sent – well, I confined him to his room." The teenager's eyes misted as he looked at his younger brother. "If only I had known..."

Ben's fingers pressed his son's shoulder. "Little Joe's here. There's nothing physically wrong with him that a few days of rest won't cure. And it seems his mind has blocked out the ordeal." Ben let out a sigh as he lifted his hand. "It's over, son. _Really_ over."

Adam didn't respond as he expected. His glanced at his brothers before his eyes returned to him. "Is it, Pa? Is it really?" he asked softly before joining his brothers.

Ben stepped out into the hall, pulling the door closed behind him. He walked to the landing and then descended into the great room. Passing through it, he opened the door and went outside. The night was cold. The sky was an onyx slab hung with diamonds. Winter was upon them. The snow would fly soon and their exile would begin. A this point, he thought that was a good thing. By the time they made it back into the settlement, what had happened to his son would be old news. As soon as Hoss came down he would have to talk to him – try to explain to the boy that there were times when it was best to let sleeping dogs lie.

It _was_ a blessing Joseph didn't remember, he told himself. The boy was so young, so vulnerable, there was no way he could process what had happened. No way for him to understand.

The truth would soon be buried as deeply as the boy's mother.

The rancher walked to the spot where his wife had fallen and then turned back to look at his home.

' _Is it, Pa?_ ' his son had asked. _'Is it really?'_

Ben sighed.

It was over for now.


	8. Epilogue

EPILOGUE

Ben remained still, waiting on his son. Joseph hadn't moved. He sat with his back pressed up against his pillows and his knees slightly raised; a riot of chestnut curls framing a face lost in thought. For some time the only sound besides his son's ragged breathing was the ticking of the tall case clock in the hall downstairs. If Joe had been five years old, he would have slipped into the bed and gathered him into his arms and held him. While holding him tightly, he would have spoken loving words, assuring Joe that he was safe and that nothing could harm him.

That Pa would make it all right.

But Joe wasn't five. Joseph Francis Cartwright was a man in his twenties and, this time, he had to make it 'all right' for himself.

"I think I knew," Joe admitted with a sigh. "Not all of it, but some." His youngest stirred and looked at him. "You know that dream I kept having, the one where I fell off the cliff?"

Ben nodded.

"When I fell, I kept getting smaller. By the time I hit, I was just a kid again." He frowned. "You think it's because that...man almost did that to me?"

It was his turn to frown. "Almost did what to you?"

Joe's lashes brushed his cheeks. He smiled that shy little smile he had. "I guess you didn't tell me that, did you?."

"I couldn't have known." Ben drew in a sharp breath, realizing how much closer to death his son had come than he had ever known. "Joseph, what all have you remembered?"

His son shrugged. When he spoke his tone was flat, almost as if he was speaking of someone else's life. "Not all of it. But as you told the story, there were...flashes. Gabe's kind of a blur – a big _brown_ blur really. But, I..." The rancher noted his son's hands. Joe's knuckles had gone white where they clasped the coverlet. His agile fingers opened and closed a few times and then he looked directly at him. "Gabe said he was gonna kill me so mama would go away with him. She wouldn't have... I mean..." Joe's eyes shone with unspent tears. "She couldn't... Could she?"

It stunned him to think that his son could even contemplate such an act of betrayal by his mother. But then he had to remember, Joseph had no real memories of his own. Oh, perhaps the boy remembered Marie tucking him in at night – perhaps he could recall her scent or the sound of her footsteps on the stair – but for the most part the woman his son knew was a picture drawn by others.

Ben hesitated. Then – as if his son _were_ still five – he slipped from the chair onto the bed beside him and out an arm around his shoulders. There were tears in his eyes too.

Joe didn't miss them.

"I'm sorry, Pa. I shouldn't have –"

He touched his son's hand. "If anyone _has_ a right, son, it's you." The rancher paused, searching for the words to convey what he was feeling. "I can only imagine what torment you went through while you were with that madman, Joe. I am so sorry I wasn't there for you when you needed me."

Joe looked stunned. "You haven't got anything to be sorry for. You couldn't have know what that man meant to do when you hired him."

Ben shook his head. "Not then. After your mother died. When I...left you."

His son squeezed his fingers. "Pa. Don't. I understand. When Laura died, I..." There it was again – that smile with such sadness wrapped up in it. "It hurt so bad to lose her, I didn't want to go on living. And we weren't even married."

The older man sighed. That kind of loss was one thing he wished his young son did _not_ understand.

"Your mother, Joseph...Joe," he smiled, choosing to refrain from using his ' _you-are-in-trouble-young-man'_ name. "How can I describe her? She was beautiful as a sunrise and just as fiery. Fierce and independent and yet completely dependent, and perhaps the gentlest, most fragile soul I have ever known." He sighed. "I know you get tired of me saying this, but I see so much of her in you."

The smile deepened. "No, Pa. I don't get tired of it."

"That day," he began, "when I read the note Gabriel Eagle left behind, demanding that I 'bring Marie', you can imagine what ran through my mind. As a ransom demand it was unusual and, of course, completely impossible." Ben thought a moment. "My first reaction was fear. My second was disappointment."

"Disappointment?"

He chuckled. "That your mother was _not_ alive. I've warned you boys about mama grizzlies – how fierce they are in protecting their young." He smiled at the memory of his wife and her tiny frame that had housed the biggest spirit he had ever known. "If your mother had thought her 'cub 'was threatened, well, let's just say the law would have been the last thing Gabriel Eagle would have had to worry about. He wouldn't have stood a chance."

"You couldn't have stopped her, huh?"

"You were everything to her. She would have given her life to save you. Joe, I don't know what that man told you about your mother, but it was all a delusion." He paused. "Son, look at me."

Joe had been staring out the window at the rising light. The new day was almost upon them. He turned away from it to face him.

"Yes, sir?"

"If that man had harmed you, your mother would have killed him." He didn't like to admit it, but it was true. He would have tried to stop her, but Marie would have found a way – and ultimately paid the price for it. "She would _never_ have gone with him."

Joe was silent a moment. Then he nodded. "That's what I told him. Just before he told me..."

"What, Joe?"

The boy hesitated. "Just before he told me that... _you_ would be the one to kill me."

His fingers tightened on his son's hand. "Oh, Joe..."

"It's okay, Pa. I didn't understand then, but I do now. And I understand about the nightmares. It's been there all these years, just under the surface, trying to come out."

The rancher frowned. "I'm sorry we never told you, Joe. At first you were too young and then, too old, it seemed. I guess we were afraid you would be angry with us for keeping it from you all these years." He waited a moment and then asked, because he had to. "Are you?"

Joe was silent for a long time and when he spoke, it had nothing to do with his question.

"I saw her that day." His son said quietly. "She was there with me."

"She?"

Joe laughed at his expression. "Mama. She told me I had to stay awake. She said I had to hold on because you were coming." His son paused and then his eyes sparkled, just like Marie's had done when she was feeling impish. "And then she turned into a big old mama eagle!"

Ben looked at his hand. He could still feel that bit of plaid cloth landing on it – the bit of cloth that had led him to his boy.

It seemed, in the end, that they did indeed bring Marie.


End file.
